


Take Me to Church

by KTfromTHEstix



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTfromTHEstix/pseuds/KTfromTHEstix
Summary: Geralt and Yennefer are one of the most mysterious power couples in LA.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 60
Kudos: 136





	1. Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkGlowingLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkGlowingLight/gifts).



> Title Inspiration; Take Me to Church, Hozier
> 
> It’s pretty clear but just in case, this is consensual stuffs :) Garbage, but consensual.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our couple enjoys a night on the town.

-Yen-

Yennefer’s glossy red painted fingernails dug into the ivory linen tablecloth. Her glass of red wine teetered dangerously and he steadied it with surprising speed. They were dining at one of the most exclusive restaurants in LA, the couple across the table from them chatty and friendly. Her pulse raced, the ebb and flow of her breasts against the stylish neckline revealed her rapid, shallow breaths.

She wore an elegant, backless, black silk gown that flowed gracefully down her toned legs. Her trim figure was accentuated by the flare of her hips, and the deep dip of the satiny garment flaunted her pert breasts. From her glossy midnight curls to her lustrous red painted lips, the red soles of her black Christian Louboutins screamed that she was not a woman to underestimate. 

Geralt sat to her left, and he cut an equally striking figure. His black Armani suit was impeccably tailored around his impressive frame. The dining room was full of attractive men, but he stood out, his chiseled features and rugged good looks complimented the almost undetectable quirk of the corner of his mouth.

“Pressing business Geralt?” The man to her right, Lambert, inquired as Geralt once again set his phone back on the tablecloth.

“Always.” He replied simply. 

She slid forward in her chair, a serene expression forced on her face. Lambert was whining and dining Geralt, trying to sell him on a new investment venture. Frankly, she had no clue what it was, she hadn’t listened to a word the man had said all evening. Her teeth trapped her lower lip and she fought the urge to close her eyes.

“So I believe you’ll find this opportunity for investment highly profitable and well researched.” Lambert lifted his wine glass to this lips.

“I've read your prospectus, and it’s intriguing but I’m going to need more.” Geralt swiped his fingers across his phone.

Her jaw went slack, and she rested her elbow on the table, her hand partially covering her mouth. She pulled her dark hair past her shoulder in an effort to cool her neck. 

“Are you alright Yenna? You look flushed.” Lambert’s annoyingly perky wife Keira asked from across the table. 

Violet irises flashed, _why couldn’t this harpy keep her eyes on her own shred of lettuce over there._ “I’m fine, it’s probably just the wine.” She bit out, before biting down on her lip again. She reached for her water glass with a shaky hand.

Again they worked Geralt over for money as her gaze darted around the restaurant, from the gaudy chandelier to the sleek cut of Geralt’s necktie. She tangled her hand into her own hair and pulled ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly as he explained how foolish Lambert’s fixed cost pricing model would be. Her tongue traced her lip as she imagined it running up and down his neck. 

She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She fidgeted with her cloth napkin, her dusky lashes fluttering. She reached to run her hand up his knee, and he maintained his conversation with the other man without flinching. She gave him a squeeze before she traced letters on his leg through his slacks. P - L - E - A - S - E, followed by a heart. 

“I’m willing to help you get things organized with the project, but I’m not comfortable with a large capital lay out until certain boxes are checked, and assurances met.” Geralt held his ground. 

Lambert turned to Keira and they argued with each other in hushed tones. 

He squeezed her hand and adjusted his phone with a few calculated swipes. He leaned to kiss her on the cheek and rested his warm hand against the small of her back. 

The argument on the other side of the table got louder and more heated, which worked perfectly for Yennefer, because so did she. 

She inhaled sharply and her eyes squeezed shut as she dug her nails into his thigh. Her legs pressed harder into the chair as her back bowed under his hand. Her mouth open in a silent shout, her other hand trying to covertly cover her lips. A strained cry slipped past her lips and he quickly covered it by loudly clearing his throat. 

Her pedicured toes curled inside her heels and her hips rocked against her will. She breathed through her nose quickly, chest flushed and heaving. Oh so subtle tremors and quakes shaking her body, gooseflesh on her arms. No one beyond the table would be any the wiser.

“Yenna, darling, now you’re shivering! I think you really must be coming down with something!” Even Keira’s fake sympathy couldn’t break through the river of bliss that pumped through her veins. 

“We’re going to get some air on the dance floor while you two sort those issues out.” Geralt tossed his napkin to the table and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully, leaning on him a bit to steady her legs as she stood. 

They drew stares almost everywhere they went, but it was even more noticeable when they were dressed to the nines. Yennefer’s sultry appeal and svelte figure, coupled with his considerable height and distinctive alabaster blowout made them highly desirable party guests. The fact that Geralt was rich as sin added to the mystery and allure of the couple. 

They had been an item for years, and it was rumored that he had asked her to marry him and she had turned him down. She didn’t need a ring to keep her man loyal, or so the gossips of Hollywood Blvd whispered about them.

Every step she took stoked the warmth between her legs back to life, and by the time they reached the dance floor she was clinging to him. There were only a few couples swaying to the music played by the string quartet in the corner of the room. The french doors of the restaurant were open, and the evening breeze rustled the curls that hung down her bare back. 

Her right hand rested on the back of his suit coat, her left intertwined with his as he gently rocked her to the slow beat. 

“Ger, uh, aren’t you going to turn it off?” She questioned, taking measured breaths. 

“Mmmmm no.” He murmured with a slow grin. 

“It seems I’ve left my phone at the table.” He swung his arm out and twirled her out of his embrace, then back against his chest. The breath knocked from her lungs as her center made contact with his thigh at the soft impact. “Ooops.”

She gripped his shoulder and bicep and moaned into his tie. Every sway of his hips against hers caused delicious friction between her legs. Her inner thighs were slick, and her knees unsteady. 

“I hate you.” She hissed, before standing on her toes to kiss him. Their tongues battled and teeth nipped as her short breaths turned to pants and he maneuvered his thigh higher between her legs. 

“I love you too.” He broke away run his teeth over the delicate shell of her ear. 

To an onlooker, they appeared to be simply enjoying the music and ambiance. A close embrace and a whispered conversation about work, or their dog. 

In reality, he growled filthy and profane things in her ear while his thigh rocked her damp panties against her clit. 

He licked her neck. “Mmmmm, you taste so good princess. I can’t wait to _taste_ you.” She closed her eyes. “Are you wet for me kitten?” He practically purred. She swallowed hard and bit back another moan. 

“You know I’m soaked, you ass.” Even as she whispered the words, she turned to kiss his stubbled jaw. The restaurant was a high class establishment, most men in attendance were clean shaven or sported impeccably trimmed full beards. Geralt didn’t give a fuck, and not a soul dared approach him about it. 

“Now, now, that’s not very nice.” He smirked and ran his hand up her ribs to swipe his thumb across her silk clad breast. She gripped his muscular arms harder and pressed her forehead against his chest to conceal her deep breaths. 

She could feel his erection against her belly as he continued to sway them to the slow music. “Thinking about what I’m going to do with that, are you?” He teased in a low, graveled voice. Familiar tremors began in her legs, and she leaned harder against him. 

He spun them slightly so her back was toward the empty patio, and slid his hands to cradle her firm rear. Her heels lifted off the floor and she clung to his neck. Her thighs shook around his, and and she buried a long, low moan in his shirt. 

-Ger-

She went slack against him, her breathing shallow. She quaked with aftershocks. _Fuck_ , it was time to get his phone. He lowered her to the floor. 

“You alright?” She licked her lips and nodded, reluctant to pull away from his warm chest. They walked back to their table, and he grabbed his phone as they took their seats. 

She tried not to gulp her water down. She exhaled deeply. He’d turned it off. It was a relief, and at the same time, she wasn’t sated. She wanted _him_. 

She stole a glance to her left. He was blatantly ignoring Lambert’s renewed appeals and staring at her like he might devour her whole. God, she wished he _would_. 

“I’m going to excuse myself to the powder room for a moment.” She stood demurely, and sashayed there with all the flare of of a woman who knew she was being watched. She sailed past a dividing wall and Geralt’s gaze was broken, and he turned to see Lambert had completely pivoted in his seat to watch her go. 

Geralt’s jaw set and when Lambert’s gaze straightened around to the table, he had the sense to look ashamed in the face of Geralt’s raised eyebrow. The main course was served, and Geralt excused himself to check on her.

He ducked behind the partition wall that led to the restrooms and she grabbed him. She pulled him by the lapels down to her height and wasted no time thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He groaned when she palmed him through his pants.

He took her free hand and pulled her through the nearest door. He scanned the room - _men’s restroom, impeccably clean, velvet red sofa, one startled teenage male attendant, no other patrons._ He pulled out his wallet, and when Cartier flashed in front of the teenager’s eyes, they lit up. He pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills and shoved them into his hand.

“No one, in or out. Regardless of what you may hear, understood?” The boy nodded frantically and took up his position outside the door in a hurry. 

He turned to find her sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, reclined like the queen she was. Finally, _time to worship at the altar_ , he thought with a grin. 

He slipped his suit coat off, and tossed it over the far arm of the sofa. It was soon joined by his tie, and then his shirt. He knelt in front of her, and she uncrossed her legs and slid to the edge of the seat. He ran his hands up her smooth calves and toned thighs, the folds of black silk gathering at her belly. 

He spread her legs apart and kissed the inside of each of her knees before nuzzling her inner thigh and cleaning the slick that had escaped her drenched black panties. She ran her fingernails through his scalp gently, massaging and petting him as he inched closer to her core. 

He slid her panties to the floor and eased the little violet vibrator from her, prompting a cascade of her slick and a mournful sound from her throat at the loss. “ _Fuck_ ” he groaned at the sight of her. She was exquisite, glistening and flushed pink from her earlier orgasms.

Instead of teasing her, he went right for her clit with his lips. She jerked against him in surprise, before melting into his touch. He bathed her clit with attention before burying his mouth in her folds. The long strokes of his tongue and his grip on her hips had her pulling one of her hands from his scalp to untie the top of her dress where it knotted at the back of her neck. 

The dress slid down and she toyed with a pebbled, pink nipple. Her hips began to chase his skilled mouth and she gave his fair hair a tug. “I need you, Geralt.” Her breaths were coming faster and she played with both breasts. He loved watching her touch herself, he would, hell, he _had_ watched her for hours. 

“What’s the magic word?” He leaned up toward her, his long tongue licking her slick from around his lips.

“The magic word is _now_.” She kissed him messily, tasting herself on him as she worked the buttons on his pants. He was painfully hard at that point, and he had to shoo her eager hands away once she freed him. 

He maneuvered her back against the arm of the sofa, their kisses still hungry, and he sent a quick grateful prayer that the furniture designer wasn’t into narrow pieces. Her shoulder blades rested against the velvet arm, and he leaned over her, landing wet kisses on her neck as he ran his cock against her warm heat. 

“That’s not the word and you know it.” He suckled a hickey into the nape of her neck and bathed the small, bright pink bruise with his tongue. He slid against her again, a thumb dancing over one of her nipples. 

“ _Oh_ ” she breathed. “ _Please_.” She muttered. “The word is please and if you don’t hurry up with -“ He thrust into her with a hard snap of his hips and a feral grunt. 

He braced an arm on the sofa and another gripped her hip. Between their antics with the vibrator and the vision of her absolutely drenched for him, he wouldn’t have any kind of superhuman endurance this time. The soft cries coming from her lips and her nails digging into his biceps weren’t helping him strategize. 

She wound her legs around his waist, her ridiculously expensive heels falling to the floor, forgotten. She cradled his head and licked down the rough stubble of his jawline to his neck. She bit his earlobe sharply and he grunted in indignation, but didn’t let up on his deep, rhythmic thrusts. 

“All night,” she whispered, “when our little toy was humming away inside me, all I could think about * _oh_ * was that I wished it was you. All big and hot, stretching me so * _ah_ * so, deliciously.” He groaned from somewhere deep in his chest. She blew cool air on the wet trail she had made.

She dragged one hand across the flexing muscles of his back, the other still woven in his hair, pulling him in for the occasional wet kiss. He slowed to bend one of her legs and change the angle of his thrusts. The desperate sound she made confirmed he’d made a good choice. 

She was close, her hips arced to meet his thrusts and every few pants were accompanied by a curse or a rather loud exclamation of his name. “Marry me.” He groaned between thrusts, her breasts sliding against his chest divinely.

“No.” She murmured. 

“Just checking.” He smiled and kissed her soundly. He wrapped her free hand around her shin, so she held her leg in place and laid his big hand over her mouth, careful not to block her nose. He loved that she was loud, but there was only so much the attendant could do if someone thought he was murdering her. 

“I think I’ll come long and hard,” he pulled in a harsh breath, “and you can wear it on your thighs,” another deep thrust, “for the rest of the evening.” 

Her lashes fluttered and she moaned low at his words. Her back arched off the couch and her blood red nails scrambled for purchase on his damp skin. She yanked on his hair and he barked out an explicative from the sudden pain. Her sharp cries died on his hand as her core clenched around his pistoning thrusts, beckoning him deeper.

He joined her after only a few more fierce snaps of his hips, his bellowed groan barely tempered against her graceful neck. He was true to his word, emptying himself throughly, cradled between her quaking legs. 

He propped his weight off of her, but they laid together lazily, catching their breath and pressing sweet kisses and licks to damp skin. He checked his watch. There was no way Lambert and his wife wouldn’t know what they’d been up to. 

She read his mind. “I don’t give a flying fuck what they think. He’ll be too busy groveling for your money to even notice.”

“I love you.” He remarked simply. 

“I love you too.” She kissed him tenderly. “Let’s go stud.” She sighed, before pinching his firm glute. He smirked and eased from her, a plaintive hiss on her lips.

He tossed her panties and the toy in the trash, he’d buy her new ones. He would buy her factories worth if she asked. He straightened his tie and then retied the cords at the back of her neck as she fussed with her hair in the mirror. He didn’t bother to hold back a grin, they both looked well and thoroughly fucked. 

He ran his hand through his mussed hair one last time and guided her out the door, his hand on the small of her back. The boy blushed as they walked past, but he didn’t utter a word. 

They walked back to the table, and he pushed her chair in for her. Lambert was professional and started right in again on Geralt about his business venture, but Kiera stared at Yennefer with an all-knowing, shit eating grin. 

“Yenna, you look downright terrible! Pardon my concern, but I think you should see a doctor. With fever and chills, you might have something contagious that we could bring home to our little Marilka.” She shook her head disapprovingly. 

Geralt froze, a piece of prime rib between his teeth. 

Yennefer took a measured sip from her wine glass. “What I have isn’t catching, Keira. Some people _never_ get it.” 

The sting from the insinuation was plain on the blonde woman’s face. Geralt resisted the urge to clap.

They finished their meal without any additional fanfare, and Geralt had agreed to a meeting between Lambert’s team and his own board of directors. He’d give him time to make changes and grant him another appeal for investment. 

He guided her from their table towards the restaurant’s entrance, but before they were out of earshot, the arguing began again between the other couple. 

“Keira, what the fuck were you thinking. That woman can blacklist you and we’ll never be invited to another function again! I want this investment damnit, and I’ll be damned if your petty jealousy bullshit ruins that for me! If they wanna fuck right here on this table, they can!”  


Their voices faded into the background as Yennefer and Geralt approached the doors, and she laid her head against his arm as they waited for the valet to bring their car around.

“We should have gotten Jaskier a doggie bag.” She remembered. 

He winced. “We’ll stop on the way home and grab him something. A bone or a rawhide from the specialty pet shop.” He pressed a kiss to her dark locks. 

“And ice cream?”

“With dark chocolate hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles.” He smiled.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Lambert is Geralt’s friend in canon, and he is here as well. But his wife, not so much. I had intended this to be a one shot, but as is my curse, I’m now planning about three more piles of said garbage for this version of our pair. Stay tuned for more garbage, or better yet probably stay away XD


	2. Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late nights at the office aren't the worst when you're the boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Still garbage, and still consensual.

-Yennefer-

He worked hard, and he worked late. A lot. 

The sun had just set when she slid from the heated leather seat in her Mercedes, her cherry red Manolo Blahniks making contact with the street with a soft scrape. She handed her keys to the valet and pressed a generous tip into his palm. 

Her dark glossy curls swayed enticingly down her back, standing out like running ink on her white silk blouse. Her impossibly soft black leggings hugged her curves as she bent to retrieve her Prada bag and a container of Geralt’s favorite Thai food. 

The young valet stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed over the roof of the sedan toward the building. There was no point in lusting over what one would never have. Lesser men had made that mistake and paid dearly.

She crossed around the front of the car, gloss coated pink lips glinting under the street lights.

“Thank you, Eskel.” She smiled as he held the glass door open for her. Eskel was Geralt’s head of security, and his team managed the entire thirty floor building. Geralt owned it all, and probably a few others on the same block of LA’s financial district. 

Her heels clicked on the marble floors as he walked her across the empty lobby. She had been in his building hundreds of times, but she would never get used to the opulence his wealth afforded them. The slabs of marble, and panes of glass and crystal around her all proved to the world he knew his shit and everyone else was unworthy. 

He had investments in real estate, tech companies, start ups, the list was long and varied. He was intelligent, shrewd, and once he set his mind to something, you might as well move out of the way because he would surly achieve it. The corner of her mouth quirked up, quite possibly the only person to tell him “no” these days might well be her. 

It wasn’t that she _wouldn’t_ marry him. She felt certain that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, but marriage sounded so final. She had trust issues with men, _daddy_ issues. Geralt had never given her reason to doubt him, but past betrayal had hurt her deeply and sealed off the more vulnerable parts of her heart. 

“What’s on the menu for Bruce tonight?” Eskel asked, as he followed her into the elegantly trimmed elevator car. _Bruce Wayne_ , he was ever joking that he was the Alfred to Geralt’s Batman, hunkered in his _bat cave_ for long hours, clinching his next financial victory. 

“Pad Thai.” She smiled. Eskel was a kind man, and one of Geralt’s closest confidants. He had always treated her with the utmost respect. And according to Geralt, he was a crack shot. She glanced down at the Glock on his hip, peeking from his coat when he moved.

“From Sri Siam?” He quizzed. 

“Absolutely.” The little restaurant in North Hollywood was Geralt’s favorite. It was a drive, but he would go to the ends of the earth for her, the least she could do was get his noodle of choice.

“Ah, Selina, you’re too good for him.” His eyes twinkled. Selina Kyle, _Catwoman_. He was too much. The elevator dinged at the 30th floor, his offices were all the way at the top of the building. 

“I’ll have your car driven home? You’re leaving with Bruce I assume?” 

She laughed, “I’m sure. Thank you.” 

She turned down the empty hallway towards Geralt’s office when she heard, “Don’t tear him up too bad Kyle!” and the elevator doors shut. She grinned, on that she couldn’t promise him. 

Just as she suspected, the last lights lit on the entire floor beamed from Geralt’s office. His secretary was still in as well. She was another one who worked long hours, trailing after Geralt’s ambitions. Yennefer was jealous of the time Fringilla got to spend with him, but she would never admit it. He needed someone smart and reliable at his beck and call, and she met that criteria and more. 

Yennefer was a screenwriter for big budget films and television, and she used a pseudonym. The public viewed _Yennefer_ as a money hungry woman who’s occupation was spending Geralt’s fortune, but in reality she was worth quite a sum in her own right. She could push her own career aside and do just about anything she wanted in any of his business ventures and be by his side, but she wasn’t that kind of woman. She needed her own space, her own life. 

“Fringilla.” She greeted. “How’ve you been?” Yennefer detested small talk, but the woman was attached to Geralt’s hip and an important part of his life, much to her annoyance. 

“I’m well Yennefer. I’m afraid my father’s illness has taken a turn for the worst though.”

Before she could respond, the sleek phone set on her desk beeped subtly, “Gill? Can you please bring me the packet Citi Group sent over? What they filed isn’t making sense and I smell a rat.” Another beep.

The sound of Geralt’s deep voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. As independent as she truly was, he was her rock. The masculine lilt of that voice had reassured her of her own capabilities, her own power, and at the same time shouldered her fears and impetuousness. He was the Yang to her _Yen_ , she thought with a slight smile. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Yennefer was sincere in her concern. “Is there anything we can do? Do you need time off?”

She sifted through the pile of mail on the corner of her desk, pulling a thick envelope with the bank’s logo emblazoned on the front. “Thank you, Geralt has been kind enough to offer already. My insurance is taking care of everything, it’s just very stressful.” 

“I’ll take that in to him. Go home Fringilla, spend time with your family.” Yennefer offered.

“Normally I would argue with you, but tonight that sounds amazing. Thank you.” Fringilla smiled gratefully. Yennefer walked to the nearby kitchenette and slid the food into the oven on a warm setting as the younger woman gathered her things. Fringilla gave her a small wave as she headed down the hallway toward the elevator. 

Yennefer grabbed the envelope and opened the massive wooden door to Geralt’s office. The epitome of a ‘corner office’, two of it’s high walls were made completely of glass, the sparkling lights of LA’s skyline below. His back to the city, his desk was the only thing in the room that wasn’t modern lines and angles. A breathtaking cherrywood antique, the scrollwork detailing must have taken months for the craftsman to complete. It, like it’s occupant, were old souls. 

He was bent over a mess of paperwork, the muscles in his arm and hand flexing as he furiously wrote. Whatever he was working on, he was not pleased. The muscle in his strong jaw flexed as he flipped through the documents on his leather blotter. She walked toward him, and he held his fingers over what he was comparing, unable to look up. His suit coat hung from the back of his chair, his tie hanging loosely over the first few undone buttons of his black shirt. 

She set the packet on a pile to his right and he reached for it as soon as her hand pulled away. His sleeves were rolled up, and she bit her lip at the tanned sinew of his forearm, the way his shirt pulled tight on his bulky shoulders. 

“Thanks Gill. You can head home if you want, no need for you to stay here any later.”

He was still oblivious that it was not his assistant that stood by his side. Her perfume would be reaching him soon, even if he didn’t look up from the files. 

“But I don’t want to go, _sir_.” 

His head jolted up at her voice. The fierce concentration softened from his face when he took her in. She was stunning, even dressed somewhat casually. Her eyes danced with mischief, her body language unusually submissive.

“Yen, what’s -“

She interrupted him, sliding around behind his chair, rubbing her hands into his shoulder blades. “You seem awfully tense sir.” She hummed near his ear. “I’m only your secretary, but I think I know what might help a big, strong man like you relieve a little tension.” She let her breath cascade across his neck.

“Hmmmmm,” he relaxed into her touch and went along with it. “What about my beautiful girlfriend?”

“That ice queen? I see the way she treats you.” She ran her hand through his thick, soft hair. 

“She doesn’t appreciate you.” She massaged hard circles into a particularly bad knot behind his collar bone. He groaned as the muscle released under her warm touch. 

She pulled his chair out slowly, and walked to face him, between his knees and the desk. 

She leaned over him, hands braced on the armrests of the chair, her blouse sliding low to reveal a shadow of the lush cleavage he knew was underneath. He resisted the urge to touch her, and let her continue with her teasing game. His slacks were already tented, and she had yet to really touch him. 

“She doesn’t kiss you enough.” She whispered, before sealing her lips over his. Their mouths slanted over one another’s in a practiced dance, perfected by countless heated moments and tender embraces. 

She slipped her tongue past his lips, and guided his hands to the back of her thighs. He traced the contours of her shapely calves through the soft leggings, tickled the underside of her knees, and cradled her firm rear. 

“She certainly doesn’t have an ass like this.” He played along between kisses, giving her a squeeze. 

“Not from sitting home eating bon bons all day she doesn’t.” She fingered the hem of her silk blouse, before raising it over her arms and tossing it aside. 

His eyes darkened as he followed her every move. He hadn’t seen this bra before, it was made of black lace but was almost see-through. As low cut as it was, her dusky nipples strained against the edge of the lace. He swallowed hard. 

“And that old witch certainly can’t have tits like these.” She beamed. She leaned her leg on the chair next to his and guided his mouth to her, blood red nails buried in his pale locks. He licked and suckled her through the thin lace, hands cupping her, as though he might be inventorying the weight and size of each. 

“So fucking perfect.” He mumbled, before delving his tongue over the edge of the material to retrieve her pebbled nipple. He let his teeth graze her sensitive flesh, and her head tilted back with a heavy sigh, eyes pinched shut. He switched sides and suckled hard, the answering throb in her core brought her back to the present. 

She eased his greedy lips from her and replaced her breast with her own hungry mouth. She loosened his tie the rest of the way off his neck, and made her way down the bottoms of his shirt. She pulled away to look in his eyes as she spoke. “I sit at my little desk, lonely all day, waiting for your phone to ring just so I can rush in here and catch a glimpse of you. This strong jaw, all those delicious muscles, the rather large bulge in your pants.” She grinned.

His eyes were wide, and a bit wild. She peeled his shirt off of him and threw it to join her own. “If that mean old harpy that has you under her spell knew, that just hearing your gruff voice makes my panties wet.”

“ _Yen_.” He rasped, as she freed the top button of his pants. 

“And I know you’re alone in this big office all day, so very frustrated and tense, and _big_.” She pushed her hand past the elastic of his boxers, he was fully hard already. She knelt down on the rug in front of his lap, the back half of her body under the desk. 

“It takes all the willpower in me not to burst through those doors and just sink down on this _incredible_ cock everyday.” She tugged on his pants and he leaned to help her pull them and his boxers down past his knees and slide to the edge of the chair. His erection sprung free proudly, and she couldn’t resist leaning over him to lick at the moisture already gathered at the tip. 

“ _Fuck_ ” he spat.

He leaned back farther to watch her work. She licked her lips and ran her wet tongue up his broad shaft, bathing him in circular motions where he was most sensitive. He groaned in appreciation. The first time she had tried that particular move years ago, he’d come all over himself without warning like a horny teenager. The memory triggered a wave of slick between her thighs. 

She licked him up and down, before taking him into her mouth about halfway. She granted him only a few calculated strokes before pulling away. “I bet that’s how she leaves you, isn’t it? All swollen and wet, and the bitch just leaves to go shopping?” She smirked at his raised eyebrow, barely covering the undone look behind his eyes. 

She tucked the lace cups of her bra down, and pushed her breasts against his hot flesh. She slid up and down, his cock reappearing on each downstroke and she pressed a kiss or lick to his sensitive head. His eyes stalked her, golden irises almost completely blown to black. Men were visual creatures, and this must be the goddamn Imax, she thought with a salacious grin. _Noted_. 

“Yen,” he grunted, “I’m close, I’m -“

She released him immediately, “No, you’re not.”

He bit back a pained noise, but he remained still. 

“Close your eyes and let me take care of you _sir_ , it’ll be my pleasure.” 

He did as she asked, too close to the edge to do anything else. 

She took a deep, calming breath and wrapped her lips around him. She relaxed the muscles in her throat as much as she could, and she took him into her warm mouth inch by inch. He was plenty big, but over the years she had learned to trust him and herself, and she could deep throat him almost all the way to the base.

Her lips glided over each vein and ridge with care, increasing her speed and suction slowly. His chest rose and fell heavily, hands clamped into fists on the desk.

“Can I open my eyes?” He asked, a frantic edge to his tone. _Good boy_ for asking.

“Mmmmmhmmmm” she hummed around him. 

“ _Shit_ ” he breathed, at the vibrations her answer created around him. 

He took one look at his entire cock disappearing into her mouth before he grabbed the edge of the desk, hard.

“I’m-” a strangled noise, “Do you want-“ a curse, he was coming apart. 

“Mmmmmhmmmm” she hummed again. All these years and he still wanted to make sure she was willing to swallow. A true gentleman. 

She reached to cup him gently with one hand, and laid her arm across his abdominals to restrict the involuntary movement of his hips some. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, as his hips jerked and the rest of his major muscle groups seized. “Yen, Yen, Fuck, Yen!” he barked before his hips finally stilled and she swallowed fast to keep up with his release. 

She gently licked him clean and tucked him back into his pants. She crawled up into his lap and perched on one of his muscular thighs. She leaned into him, craving the feel of his skin against hers. His thick arms banded around her and he tucked her head under his chin. 

“Hi sweetheart, how was your day?” he asked sincerely, as though nothing had happened between then and her entrance with the envelope.

“It was going great until I walked in on my boyfriend getting sucked off by some dark haired, secretary harlot.” 

“Can’t win ‘em all princess.” 

She could _hear_ his smirk. She smacked the back of her hand against his firm pectoral muscle in retaliation. 

“Two can play at that game.” He murmured, before standing up from the chair abruptly, taking her with him. He tossed her over his shoulder in a firemen’s carry, and she let out a shriek of laughter and surprise. He pushed the door open with his foot, and she reached to give his delectable ass a firm slap, grin on her face as she hung upside down against his bare back. 

-Geralt-

He grunted at the unexpected sting, but got his revenge by sinking his teeth into the equally delectable cheek closest to his face. Instead of a curse, the action earned him a moan and he felt her rub her thighs together against his arm. _Christ_ , how was it possible he was already starting to get hard again. She would be the death of him.

He pushed open the glass doors of his formidable boardroom. The room was richly appointed, everything centered around an immensely long table, and all four walls were made of clear tempered glass. Sleek looking conference call phones lined the middle of the table, surrounded by twenty-five or thirty leather chairs. He set her on her feet near an overly large chair at the head of the table. 

He pressed a firm kiss to her lips before kissing a wet trail down her neck, into the hollow of her throat, and down her breastbone. His warm hands ran up her back and rubbed circles into her skin, paying homage to her touch that had eased his own shoulders earlier. 

“Is this your new chair? It’s massive.” She asked of the high-backed piece of furniture, her voice breathy at his touch. 

“It is. You like it?” He pinched the clasp on her bra, and she shrugged her arms free to toss it over the chair. He bathed both of her aching breasts with his broad tongue while he rolled her leggings and panties down her legs. 

“Mmmmm I do like it, it’s a veritable _throne_.” He knelt and helped her out of her heels, pushing the leggings past her toes. 

“You probably lounge in it during your meetings and lord your power and authority over your subjects like some pompous king.” He flicked the tip of his tongue into the hollow of her belly button, mimicking the motions she loved against her clit. His fingers wound into the ends of her hair from below and he applied enough pull that her head tilted back languidly, a hushed gasp on her lips.

His voice was course against her belly. “And what offering have you for your king, my queen?” 

She found his free hand, and guided their fingers into the sea of slick between her legs. “A fine meal, your highness.” A smirk crept across her face when she heard the noise that came from deep in his throat.

He pulled his hands from her hair to grab the back of her thighs and lift her up onto the massive table. He climbed up on it after her, and she spread her knees wide for him. He would never again be able to sit in this room arguing about money, without picturing her laid out for him like a proper feast. 

The back of her thighs met the tops of his shoulders and she moaned low and long at the first stroke of his warm tongue. He buried his face against her like a drowning man lapping up the last breaths of oxygen he would have. She spread her arms open wide and surrendered to him, soft sighs and moans encouraging him on.

His long tongue delved deep inside her tight heat and he heard his name from under her breath. He moved to circle her clit, and teased two fingers along her folds. Her hips arched, following his featherlight touch. “Ger-alt,” her indignant tone turned desperate as his tongue tapped her clit and he worked his fingers inside her.

She shifted and rocked against the smooth table as he searched high up in her for the spot he knew would grant her much deserved release. Her panting breaths came faster, and she reached an arm to dance her nails against his scalp. He pumped his fingers faster, and nuzzled his lips on her clit. 

“Oh, _right_ there. _God, again_.” 

The hand on his scalp that had teased began to pull him closer, and her hips ground against his face and fingers with more urgency. He reached his free hand up to clasp hers, and their fingers intertwined, palms flexing against one another. 

She pressed his hand to her breast, and he twisted her nipple hard enough to wring a curse from her lips. He dragged and curled his long fingers inside her, and the sexy little noises she uttered turned to full, unashamed moans. 

Suddenly she tightened around his fingers and her back arched off the table to the sound of her euphoric wail. Her shoulders shook and her legs trembled against the warm skin of his back. Her hips followed his fingers, bucking against his mouth, soft blissful cries echoing inside the high glass walls.

He worked on her diligently until the tremors eased and she hissed, her swollen clit now overly sensitive. Her chest wracked with deep breaths as she pressed her cheek into the cool table. His hand found her shaky one, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her palm. 

She sat up, one hand in his and the other petting his head. He remained bent between her legs, his face snuggled against her inner thigh. Her stomach chose that tender moment to make a rather unladylike growl.

“Mmmmm” he hummed, pressing his lips to her belly. “I shall have to feed my queen.”

He helped her down off the table, and she grabbed her leggings and panties from where he’d tossed them. “I brought dinner, it’s warming in the break room.” 

“You’re the very best my love.” He scooped her into his arms. He carried her bridal style down the abandoned hallways, her arms around his neck, head laid on his shoulder. 

They returned to his office with the food, and she swapped her balled up leggings for his shirt. She slipped her arms through the oversized garment, leaving it hang open, pausing to inhale his scent from the collar. He pushed one of the suede sofas close to the window, and he sat with the noodles, two forks. 

She pulled a pair of water bottles from the mini fridge by the door and sat on his lap, her back against the arm of the sofa, bare legs tucked against his. He fed her the first forkful, the corner of his mouth raised in satisfaction as she closed her eyes in appreciation of the rich flavor.

They ate quietly for a while, she was always distracted by the view from his office at night. She wanted to know who all those people were, in countless other windows, all across the city. The twinkling lights of the buildings and streets from above reminded them both of how blessed they were.

-Yennefer-

“Will you fund Lambert’s venture?” She asked, her tongue darting out to catch a stray noodle. 

He frowned. “No. It makes sense in theory, but it’ll bleed out in practice. He won’t be able to sustain solid growth figures.” He took another bite.

“He’ll be pissed.” She warned.

“You can stand not seeing Keira for a few weeks until he gets over it?” He asked, amusement on his face. 

She “tsked” and rolled her eyes. “I’ll live. I’ll spend some extra time cleaning up after Jaskier in the yard. It will remind me of our time together.” She said, her tone sugary sweet. 

He laughed. “How was our baby boy today?” She was working on her writing from their home until they could get their six month old black German Shepard puppy on an efficient potty schedule. 

“Adorable and cuddly. Also nippy.” She rolled up his shirt sleeve and showed him the small, jagged bite marks on the underside of her forearm. 

His brow furrowed, and he set the mostly empty container on the sofa next to them. He took her arm and inspected the shallow punctures, bringing each one to his lips.

“It’s alright. It was my fault, we were…roughhousing.” She admitted.

“Hmmmm, I should have known. His mama likes it _rough_.” His soothing kisses turned to nibbles.

“I do.” Mischievous glint in her eyes. “He was extra rowdy, missing his strong male father figure.” She took his face in her small hands, “He’s not the only one who misses you when you’re away.” She nudged her nose against his in an eskimo kiss, before capturing his bottom lip between hers. 

“Mmmmphhh” He groaned into her mouth. “I think about you - all day.” He admitted, kissing her properly, his tongue surging into her mouth. She gave back equal measure, shifting to straddle his powerful thighs. 

They separated for air, mouths still hovering close. “Just this week I was thinking about you when I should have been preparing for a meeting.” The rough pads of his fingers teased her nipples to firm peaks under the open shirt. “How, if you’d been here, I would have punished you for distracting me. Against that glass right there.”

“Punished me, how?” Her voice was quiet, but she wasn’t intimidated. She trailed a hand through his chest hair, down the hills and valleys of his abs before her other hand joined and she unzipped his fly.

“A rough, deep fuck - no foreplay. You’d be pressed into the glass and wouldn’t let you finish until I was ready myself.” He pushed his shirt from her shoulders and pulled her flush with his chest.

“Geralt, that’s not punishment.” She bit his lip. He grunted in surprise. “That’s a page from my diary.” She _felt_ his ragged groan before she heard it.

He lifted her off the sofa, and pushed her up against the glass window. She gasped at the force he used, even as his hand protected the back of her head from getting bumped. So un-Geralt like, but damn, it was _hot_. 

They kissed fiercely, teeth biting and tongues soothing. He reached between them and she felt his fingers run the length of her slit. “So wet and I’ve barely touched you.” His husky voice stirred heat low in her belly.

“Rough and deep like you promised.” She reminded him. He grunted, before letting her slide to touch the carpet and spinning her around to face the skyline below. His unzipped pants were the last remnants of their clothing, and he kicked them and his shoes off quickly. 

When he turned back to her, she had her hands braced against the glass on either side of her face and she leaned back, feet spread wide. She looked back at him with longing, her hunger for him brutally clear. 

His expression held the same desperate thirst. One thick arm wrapped around her chest below her breasts, the other reached between her legs to guide his throbbing cock to her entrance.  
She pushed back against him at the same time he thrust deep and they both cried out, her sharp cry nearly drowning his guttural moan. He was made for her, the stretch just bordering on pain before she adjusted to him.

His strokes were thorough as she had demanded, her own hips meeting him push for pull. He played with her clit in time with his hips, his other arm flexing deliciously near her face where he found purchase. He licked and sucked her collar bone as her breathy pants fogged the glass near her mouth. Her breasts slid and pressed against the cool surface, the picture they painted would certainly scandalize anyone if they weren’t thirty floors up.

“Harder,” she whimpered in between soft moans. 

He obeyed, the snap of his hips more forceful. Her legs became unsteady, she was getting too close too fast. Wanting to feel every last second of his divine _punishment_ , she pulled his hand from the juncture of her thighs and instead pressed it to her neck. She could smell herself on his fingers.

He paused for just a moment to nudge her leg wider with his knee, and she swore when his next thrust bottomed out. “Mine.” He growled.

“Yours, forever.” She bit back, her voice strained.

“Marry me.”

“No.” She gasped, but she clenched her inner muscles as he slid from her, pulling a strangled sounding swear from him.

The pace of his hips increased as she squeezed him, and the big hand that she had placed around her neck squeezed her gently. He was careful to avoid her windpipe and not to apply enough pressure to bruise her sensitive skin.

Between the exquisite slide of his substantial cock, the cold glass against her breasts and his hand on her neck, she gave up the fight with a broken scream. Her already unsteady legs gave out as she spiraled into white hot bliss, eyes rolling back under her ebony lashes.

He followed right behind her with fierce groan, holding both of them upright as he emptied himself in her pulsing heat.

Both spent, he eased them down the glass to the carpet. She was limp in his arms, tendrils of her dark hair stuck to the fine sheen of sweat on her back. He watched her come back to the present, their breathing calmed. 

“Love you.” She whispered, closing her eyes again, fully intending to burrow into his arms and sleep naked on the carpet.

-Geralt-

He kissed her forehead and laid her on the sofa reverently. He dressed and sent a text to Eskel letting him know that they were on their way out. He pulled an empty duffel from a cabinet on the far wall, and stuffed it with her purse and heels, and the files from the top of his desk. She didn’t wake even as he buttoned her silk blouse and tugged on her leggings.

He took a last look around the room before shouldering the bag and gathering her off of the sofa. He clicked the lights off, and Eskel met him just outside the elevator. 

“Bruce.” Eskel greeted under his breath.

“Alfred.” Geralt nodded and walked past the doors. He gave up resisting the man’s affectionate nicknames years ago. 

Eskel made no remark about the fact that she was sound asleep, her flawless makeup and hair mussed, her feet bare. He knew them both well enough to know that nothing was amiss.

The elevator dinged, and they entered the shadowed lobby. The older man held the door for Geralt, and opened the passenger door of the Range Rover and reclined the seat for her. Geralt eased her into the seat, bucking her seatbelt before shutting the door quietly. 

“Thank you.” Geralt clapped him on the back. 

“Always. I’ll be there at nine tomorrow morning to pick you up if you’re still flying to Manhattan for the shareholder meeting?”

Geralt looked back through the window of the SUV at her slumbering form. 

“I don’t think I’ll be making the flight. Vesemir can go and vote by proxy.”

“I’ll let him know. Tell Selina next time I want some spicy shrimp soup if she’s stopping.” He smiled.

Geralt opened the his door and tossed the duffle in the back seat. “I will, friend.” 

———

-The Next Day-

He hustled down the hallway to the boardroom. He spent the entire morning at home, taking a rare break, distracted by a certain _someone_. He pushed the door open, every seat in the room was filled except his at the head of the table. 

The whispers and quiet conversations silenced when he entered the room, it was almost too quiet when he went to sit. There, still draped over the top of the chair was Yennefer’s lacy bra. He smirked. 

He set the file in his hand on the table, and carefully tucked the lingerie into the pocket inside his jacket. He was not bashful about claiming ownership of the garment in the least.

He took his seat and opened up the file. Perks of being the boss. They could sit there all day and wonder about his personal life, let the busy bodies be jealous. _Hell_ , when he thought about her, he was jealous of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It’s role-play day in LA. I’m tired, forgive me. Also no kink expert by any means, but assume our girl loves to dabble and they’re established enough with each other to safely operate within their preferred limits without me explaining their notarized safe word pre nup.


	3. Sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer falls ill, and Geralt cracks the code on her latest screenplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter is set at a lower gear than the prior two intentionally, I promise our babies aren’t losing their fire. <3 No, she doesn’t have COVID, this was planned in advance of such shenanigans. Also vomiting - if you are sensitive to it beware lol

The house was breathtaking, a mansion really. Everything was ivory, from the exterior walls, to the square marble pillars, and the winding concrete drive leading to the six car garage. Set back from the private road, the property was gated and fenced in, but so vast that none of the ironwork was visible from the main house. 

High arched windows and balcony railings littered the walls and framed an imposing solid oak front door. The main structure wrapped around past the garage and extended back on either side, forming a horseshoe. The back of the building opened up in an open air patio and all focused around an olympic length swimming pool. Sapphire waters bled into a jacuzzi pool adjacent an elaborate grill and courtyard area. 

Umbrellas, designer chairs and tables lined the concrete walkways all the way down beyond the unattached pool house to to beach. Lush greenery and perfectly manicured topiaries lined the elegant, stately lines of the estate. 

It was more than they needed, just the two of them and the dog, but it was an investment. A year ago they decided to move from their downtown penthouse, and he could tell she had fallen in love when the realtor took them through the property. 

She had insisted it was too big, he agreed, but told her he was buying it anyway. An investment. They could live in it or it could sit vacant, it made no difference to his wallet. Designer shoe boxes and totes of their belongings filled the foyer the next morning.

The Pacific ocean lapped at their private beach access, the sun low in the eastern sky. Inside their home, a beautiful woman lay dying.

-Yennefer-

At least, she thought she was dying. Bright morning sun beamed through the large windows in the master bedroom. A mammoth four poster bed dominated the room. Ocean breeze flowed through the open windows, rustling the ivory silk canopied over the sturdy oak frame. A relatively small lump quivered in the mass of white bedding, obsidian curls fanned over a plush pillow. 

She felt like she had gone nine rounds with an angry Greek God. Her head pounded and her stomach felt like it would mutiny at any moment. She was damp with sweat but shook with chills. Her bones ached. The harsh light of her phone screen under the covers made her wince. She had a conference call in twenty minutes. 

She slowly pushed back the blankets and sat up, her head spinning. It was like the worst hang over she’d ever had, yet she didn’t even have time for a glass of wine the night before. Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t wanted anything for dinner either. 

The queasiness that washed over her when she stood probably explained why she’d been too tired to wait for Geralt to come to bed. His side of the bed was wrinkled, he was up at four and probably out the door by five that morning. She hoped he wouldn’t get sick too. 

Her short, silky nightgown was damp with sweat. They both preferred to sleep in the nude, but since Jaskier’s arrival she had taken to wearing something since he still demanded to be taken outside at all hours of the night. The vet told them it was behavioral, like he just couldn’t get enough attention. She padded across the room slowly, and opened the bedroom door. 

Sure enough, he was waiting outside to launch his entire fifty five pound frame at her. He jumped around for a few moments, excited to be near her, but it was all she could do to keep upright and endure his affection. 

She scratched behind his ears and he preened. “Mama doesn’t feel good honey, we’re just gonna take naps today bud.” He darted around the room, sniffing and checking every corner and eventually sat whining by Geralt’s side of the bed. 

Without warning her stomach twisted, she pressed her hand to her mouth and darted toward the master bath. Her whole body shook as she leaned over the porcelain bowl and heaved violently. It was all she could do to keep her hair back and get air in her lungs. Jaskier leaned his weight into her side, the poor thing didn’t know what was happening. 

She vomited until she had nothing left to give. She flushed the toilet and crawled up the vanity, wincing at her appearance. She fought a wave of dizziness and rinsed her face and mouth in cool water. There was no way she would be able to work that day, even over the phone. She dried her face, and trudged back to the bed.

She sat on the edge of the huge mattress, Jaskier staring at her expectantly, tail wagging. She opened her phone and brought it to her ear. Her sister, Sabrina, would have to take over for her on the call. Once an aspiring actress, Yennefer’s fair haired younger sibling had traded in reading scripts for writing them. She was still learning, but showed creative promise and would likely live up to her name. 

“Brina? I’m sick, I’m not going to make it on the call. Can you take care of it today?”

“Sweating, chills, headache, vomiting. And I look like the black death rolled in.” 

“No, there’s nothing he can do about it. He’d get himself sick. I’ll be fine.” 

“She took the week off, I’m alone, but I’m fine. Jaskier is here keeping me company.” 

“He doesn’t need to know how to dial a phone, bish.” 

“Well I’m crabby, I feel like shit.” 

“I’ll probably just throw it right back up, but I’ll try.”

“Thanks babe.” 

She stood and fought another wave of dizziness. Her sister had whined that she would be dehydrated if she didn’t get some fluids in her. The idea sounded disastrous, the last thing she wanted was to throw up any more, she felt exhausted already. 

“Come on baby, let’s go get something to drink.” 

She shuffled down the hallway and started down the curved staircase, the dog right on her heels. The cool wood felt like ice on her bare feet, and about two thirds of the way down the stairs another bout of lightheadedness hit. She grabbed the railing hard, but her vision blurred and her knees went weak. 

Her eyes rolled as she passed out, and she tumbled down the remaining steps. 

———

-Geralt-

“Geralt?” His phone beeped. He was in a meeting with three very important British investors, but Fringilla knew that. He got up from the table in his office, walked to his desk and responded back to her. The men resumed their conversation. 

“You have a call, I wouldn’t interrupt you but she says she’s your sister, and you haven’t been answering your cell.” 

His sister? He reached to grab his silenced phone, missed calls from Sabrina. “Go ahead, put her through.” 

He listened to what she had to say, and thanked her before he hung up. If they hadn’t flown in just for that meeting, he would have kicked them out and gone straight home. 

“Sorry about that gentlemen.” 

“Problem on the home front?”

It was a personal question, one he normally wouldn’t appreciate, but the three men he was hosting were old friends. They had actually met Yennefer the prior year at a charity function, and she had charmed them effortlessly. 

“Yennefer’s ill. Just a stomach bug.” 

The older men started right in on him. “Oh boy, you better get home and hold her hair back - that filly of yours isn’t one to be kept waiting!” and “Are you sure it’s not a bun in the oven?!”

The eldest man clapped him on the shoulder. “Go ahead son. These fools are ready to sign this contract right now, aren’t they?” He looked at the other two purposefully. 

———

Geralt tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as the gate rumbled open. He zipped the SUV up the driveway and noticed he could hear the dog barking already. That damn dog, she couldn’t be getting any sleep with all that ruckus. 

He had brought Jaskier home for her after Christmas that year. Eskel volunteered at a local animal shelter, and had hinted to Geralt that one of a newly surrendered litter of German Shepard puppies would make an excellent companion and addition to the security of their home. 

She fell in love with the little fool immediately, always one to choose an animal over a human any day. The dog was six months old and still had a lot to learn, but he felt better knowing she wasn’t home alone. He knew without a doubt the dog would take down an assailant in a heartbeat if they approached her. 

He grabbed the paper bag from the passenger seat, apple juice from her favorite little farm stand always made her feel better. He walked from the garage into the large kitchen, and Jaskier jumped all over him, barking incessantly. 

“Good god Jask, calm down. Outside?” He offered, holding him off with a strong arm before scratching his jowls. He set the juice on the large marble topped island, and opened the glass door to the courtyard surrounding the pool. The dog wanted nothing to do with it, which was surprising. 

“Well fine, but shush!” He strode from the kitchen toward the main foyer, headed upstairs to check on her. 

He stopped short. _No_. There, sprawled in a heap at the base of the stairs, was the reason the dog was going ape shit. 

He rushed over to her. She lay face down on the marble tile, a small amount of blood running from a cut on her brow. He knelt and rolled her into his lap, Jaskier whining shrilly next to them. 

“Yen?” He tried, pushing the curls from her face. She was burning up, but she was breathing. The steady rise and fall of her chest reassured him she hadn’t broken her neck.

“Yennefer?” His voice took on an anguished pitch as he pleaded with her. “Yen!” He tapped her face softly. 

She groaned and slowly opened her eyes. “Geralt.” She rasped. Recognizing his concerned face, she tried to sit up too fast. Her vision blurred and he coaxed her back down against his leg. There was a nice bruise forming on her bare calf already, and probably more he hadn’t noticed yet.

“It looks like you fell sweetheart. What happened?” He tried to get a better look at the cut on her face.

“Geralt, I’m sick.” She lamented. 

“Yes, you are love, today is not your day. Let’s get you to the Emergency Room.” He tucked his hands behind her back and under her knees, and slowly lifted her from the floor.

“No, I don’t need the hospital. Just bed please. Actually, bathroo-“ She covered her mouth with her hand and he raced her into the bathroom off the kitchen just in time for her to retch up a whole lot of nothing. 

If she wouldn’t go to the ER, he could at least have a doctor come to the house and make sure she was alright from the fall. Head injuries were not something he wanted to gamble with. He sent the text message before she went again. 

He held her hair as her stomach rolled, just as that old Englishman had snarked. The dog would not leave her side, eyes wide, but Geralt couldn’t blame him. 

When her tremors had subsided, he helped her rinse her face, careful of the small gash. He settled her in the suede chaise lounge just outside the bathroom, Jaskier’s head in her lap. She finally got a few sips of juice, before the doorbell rang, setting a low growl between the row of sharp teeth against her belly.

Geralt came back around the corner with the doctor, Chireadean, as he introduced them. He hauled the dog out to the back patio, insistent he actually _go_ this time and gave her a bit of privacy.

“I’m sorry Geralt wasted your time, he is, overprotective.” She sat up so he could examine her face.

“It’s not a waste of my time at all, I promise you, I am called frequently for much less. And especially to visit such a lovely patient.” He smiled kindly.

He quizzed her on whether or not certain areas of her body hurt, and the symptoms she felt prior to falling. He took her temperature and checked her for bruising. He applied a butterfly bandage to her brow, and gave her instructions on maintaining the cut and preventing a scar. 

Geralt returned with a freshly run K9, in time to see him check her for a concussion and listen to her lungs. 

The medic stood and declared her unluckily sick and a bit bruised but otherwise healthy, and recommended plenty of rest and fluids. 

“Can you please advise Geralt that I’m fine, he can go back to work so he doesn’t get sick?” She implored him. 

“I would dear, but if I’d come home to find my wife in a similar predicament I wouldn’t be able to heed that either.” He packed his stethoscope back in his bag. “Call me if you need absolutely anything, any time. It was a pleasure meeting you Yennefer.” He pet Jaskier on the head, who’d apparently decided the man was no longer a threat, and followed Geralt out.

She started back upstairs, apple juice in tow. He caught up with her and took the juice, his other hand resting warmly on the small of her back. 

———

The Next Afternoon

-Yennefer-

She moved to get up from the bed. He caught her just as he entered the room with her crackers, Jaskier prancing behind him happily. 

“Don’t get up, what do you need?”

“In my office, the paper on the desk.” 

“Which one?”

“All of them.” She smiled sweetly, trying to get her way. He opened his mouth to protest. “You’ll help me, I’ll rest right afterwards, I promise. I just need to finish an idea before it slips my mind forever.” 

He grumbled, but handed her the box and turned to get what she requested. “Have a cracker?”

“I am not a parakeet, my love.” 

He strode down the hall, and she could hear him talking to the dog before he walked beyond earshot. “ _Your mother_ , is the most stubborn, obstinate, determined, beautiful….” 

———

“Sweetheart, this is good. Really good.” They sat against the gigantic headboard, surrounded by her manuscript. He chomped on her crackers, reading the pages she wasn’t editing. 

She gave him a playful side-eye, “Just what do you think I _do_ all day, Geralt? Someone is paying me a lot of money to write this, so I would hope it’s _really_ good.” 

He wasn’t listening, he was engrossed in her words on the page. She supposed that was a compliment in itself.

“What was his wish?” He asked, his gaze still racing across each line. “Henry made the wish to save Anya’s life, what was it?” He finally looked up at her. “And this here, after they save the dragon egg. It’s gut wrenching, and he takes it out on Joey. The poor idiot can’t find his way out of a wet paper bag. Is there really no way she can become a mother? What if Anya finds another djinn and makes her own wish?”

She stared at him with an awestruck expression. “You actually like it.” She blinked, as if maybe his excitement was a delusion from the smack to her head. 

“Of course I do, It’s brilliant, I -“ 

She covered his mouth with her own, effectively stopping his words. Her fingers traced his jaw as their mouths slanted against one another. She released his bottom lip hesitantly. 

“Are you afraid of me? Getting you sick?” She ran her fingers across his cheekbone, their foreheads centimeters away. 

His voice was low, and thick with emotion. “I am scared of you. Losing you.” His nose nudged into hers, “Yesterday, I -“

“Never.” She whispered. “Not happening. I won’t allow it.” 

The corner of his mouth quirked up at her confidence. She kissed him again, her hands outlining the musculature of his shoulders and arms. He tangled his hand in her hair, the other charting down her spine, one vertebra at a time. 

“Geralt,” she broke free. He kissed her chin. “I need-“

“Mmmmm?” 

“A bath. I’m icky.” 

He smiled against her neck. 

———

He helped her step into the steaming water. The massive clawfoot tub was one of the features of the house that had drawn her in. She sank down into the soothing water, immediately feeling the dingy feeling of being sick leave her skin. 

He set her juice on the small table by the tub. “I wasn’t sure if the smell of those would turn your stomach so I didn’t add anything.” He had dug out every single bath salt and essential oil in the cupboard and put them within her reach. God, he was so good to her. 

He kissed the top of her head, and called for the dog to follow him to the door. 

“You’re not joining?” She didn’t bother to keep the disappointment from her tone.

“You’re supposed to be _relaxing_ love. Rest.” 

“I need _you_ to relax. Please.” She saw the ‘please’ transform his stubborn expression. _Defenseless_. 

He slid his sweatpants to the floor, and tossed them and his shirt over the oversized vanity counter. She leaned forward in the warm water, and he sank down behind her with a sigh. 

He massaged small circles into her back as she washed up with the sponge he’d left for her. She dunked her head under the water, and he reached to work her shampoo into the mass of dark curls streaming down her back. She turned in his lap and did the same for him, allowing her to leave his scalp smelling of gooseberries without protest. Jaskier lay curled at the base of the tub, snoring. 

After rinsing their hair, she sunk into the still warm water and reclined against his chest. She ran her nails up his thick thighs on either side of hers, and tickled his knees as they poked above the water’s surface. She slid up against his chiseled chest experimentally, and he gave her a warning growl. She could feel him hardening against her rear. 

“Thought I was supposed to be relaxing. I know something that will make me _very_ relaxed.” She tsked. “Fine, I’ll help myself.” 

One plump, pink lip jutted out in a pout, and she teased her nearest breast as it rested just above the water line. The nipple pebbled against her dripping fingers, and she could feel his intake of breath as his chest contracted against her back. He could see over her shoulder in perfect detail as her other hand joined to twist and flick the sensitive skin.

Her right hand trailed below the water’s surface and she ran two fingers along her slit, and she hummed in satisfaction as they circled her clit. It didn’t feel like he was breathing at all, both of his hands gripped the edge of the tub firmly. Her hand left her breast and pulled his hungry lips to hers. He groaned into her mouth and slid his tongue next to hers. 

Her body begin rocking softly against her fingers, and against him. She moaned unashamedly as she felt his fully hard cock against her ass. The sound seemed to break him of his carefully held concentration, and his hands left the sides of the tub. 

One ran across every inch of her wet skin he could find, across her belly and up her ribs, and the other covered her smaller one between her legs. He didn’t touch her himself, but simply felt the motions of her own small fingers as they began to move more franticly over her clit. 

The water rippled around her breasts as her chest rose and fell in time with her soft pants. He whispered in her ear, heat coiling from her core higher. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”…”Jealous of those little fingers.”…”Come like a good girl.”

She gave in at his words, her head leaned back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent shout. Her hand worked furiously between her legs to keep up with the instinctual movements of her hips. She could barely hear his muttered, “Fuck”, through the blood rushing past her ears. She relaxed against him, catching her breath, his hand wrapped around hers, resting on her thigh.

Suddenly, Jaskier’s dark furry face popped over the edge of the tub by their heads. She screamed at the top of her lungs and rolled off of his chest, splashing to the other side of the tub. The dog startled at her scream and bolted from the room thinking she was angry, tail between his legs. Geralt wiped his face of the bathwater she splashed on him and his booming laugher echoed across the tile.

“Holy shit Jaskier!” She swore, waiting for her heart to slow down. 

She floated back across his chest, facing him this time. The water was losing it’s heat, but Yennefer wasn’t. He was still hard against her thigh. He reclined even farther against the side of the tub, hands now folded behind his head. She ran her breasts against his chest, the slightly soapy water slicking her path. 

He “Hmmmmm’d” in response to her blatant invitation. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. You hit your head yesterday.” He reached to wipe away a few water droplets that gathered near the butterfly bandage. 

“Then don’t hit my head. We can manage.” She bit her lip and circled his substantial erection with her hand.

“I suppose Henry would do it.” He sighed dramatically, but there was humor in his eyes. He held her hips and helped her slide down the length of him. He grunted when her legs rested against his. Her eyes had closed against the sensation, but fluttered open.

“What do you mean about Henry?” She bent close to him and moved in slow, shallow thrusts. 

“I mean he’s modeled after me.” He said confidently, his hands running up her slender sides under the water. “He does my move. After the djinn.” 

She feigned ignorance, “Whatever do you mean?” 

He arched and twisted his hips in a powerful thrust that connected with that exquisite spot inside her. “Oh!” Her hands grappled for purchase against his slippery chest. 

“That one, my love.”

A bit of color rose high in her cheeks. He had her. 

“Fleeting?!” He thrust again, a smirk on his face. He kept up the strong rhythm of his hips, water splashing over the edges of the tub. It was all she could do to hang onto him and moan. 

“But highly,” ah, “fucking,” ugh, “effective.” She reminded him. 

He growled at her words and moved his hand from her hip to her breast, the other wrapped around her waist to keep her in place. She could tell he was trying his damndest not to jostle her too hard. She draped herself over him as close as she could get, that angle causing his movements to reach her clit as well. 

Half of the water once in the tub was splattered all over the expensive tile floor. He rolled her nipple, his hand trapped between their bodies. She brought her lips to his for a messy kiss, her hands finding a hold on the edge of the tub allowing her push back against his hips.

“I’m close, I’m close!” She panted against his collar bone. She wanted him to come _with_ her, damnit. 

“Come inside me Geralt.” A hoarse noise came from deep in his throat. “I want it all. Every. Last. Drop.”

He bucked and his hips stilled, a guttural groan tore from his lips as he erupted inside her. When she felt him lose control she gave hers away willingly. Her euphoric cry rang in his ears while her whole frame shook above him. Her back arched and her head fell back as her hips nestled close to his, her inner muscles clinging tightly. 

He sank back against the tub and held her tight, his shallow thrusts nursing her through the last tremors of her climax. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh, the water had turned cold. Her hands eased from the edge to frame his face.

“Was I that obvious?” She wondered aloud.

“His hair is _white_.” He tucked a few damp curls behind her ear. “Joey follows Henry around like a lost _puppy_. Anya is drop dead gorgeous, knows what everyone should be doing, and is responsible for the largest body count per capita. Sounds like any old Tuesday around here.”

She should be offended at his synopsis, but it was eerily accurate. She was a big girl, she could take the truth. 

“Are you upset?”

“Hell no. I’m flattered, and so proud of you.” He kissed her soundly. 

He rand his hands up her arms. “You’re shivering love, let’s go.” They climbed from the tub carefully, she volunteered to dry the floor if he would find the terrified dog.

-Geralt-

Moonlight filled their bedroom when he woke, and he pulled her hair from his lips. No one could blame her, his face was pressed to the back of her head. In fact, his entire body was cozied up tight to her smaller one. Both on their sides, his right arm was pinned by her neck, but the left draped over her and cupped her breast even in sleep. 

Not only was his hand a traitorous bastard, but even through his sweatpants, his cock had been awake long before he and prodded against her firm buttocks. _Rest_ damnit, she was to have rest. He pulled his arm back and shuffled away.

“Come back,” she mumbled, her arm reaching behind her and squeezing his hip. Her white nightgown had bunched up at her waist, and she tugged at the waistband of his pants even as he returned to lay against her back.

He hovered his lips against the thin strap on her shoulder, and she hummed in appreciation when he kissed her smooth skin. He was hot and heavy against the small of her back.

“Don’t say _rest_ ,” she whispered.

He rolled his eyes heavenward in the darkness for a moment. She would rebel against every single thing he did to protect her if she could. 

She bent her knee forward, her arm pulling him close, the request clear. He entered her slowly, his big hand on her waist and his mouth at her ear. “So wet for me sweetheart.” 

She moaned when he began moving, his slow, torturous thrusts dragging against her inner walls deliciously. He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, the beginnings of a growl in his chest. 

He ran his hand over her breasts, giving each a reverent squeeze before tracing a path down her abdominals. His fingertips felt the subtle line of her muscle where it gave way to her flat belly. Everything about her was so soft and feminine. 

“Marry me.”

“Ohhhh,” his fingers found her clit. 

“No.” She breathed. She turned her head to feather a kiss to the tan bicep under her curls.

She intertwined her right hand with his in front of them and reached her left back to grope the tight muscles of his buttocks. His breath huffed past her ear, soft swears and groans urging her own. 

“Faster,” she hissed. He slowed. 

She pinched his left ass cheek. He stopped thrusting altogether.

She squirmed before giving in, “ _Please_.”

His hips snapped against hers furiously and his hand between her legs adopted the same pace.

It wasn’t long before harsh breaths escaped her lips and she dug her nails into his palm and glute. She bucked and ground against him with a wail, her mouth slack and her eyes squeezed shut in the darkness. Her thighs quivered against his, still strong and steady for only a moment longer. His pelvis snapped to hers vigorously before he let go and spent himself with a deep grunt.

He eased back and she turned on her other side to face him, her legs pulled up close. It was the first time he had seen her face since he woke. He righted his sweatpants and graced her with a slow smile. 

“What was your dream about?” She teased lightly. 

He relaxed into the pillow under his head. “Honestly, I can’t -“

She jolted up unexpectedly and flailed an arm behind her, “Oh! What the fuck!”

He lurched up to see the Jaskier bent over the edge of the bed, his wet nose sniffing and licking the fine sweat from the back of her knees. Geralt reached a long arm and pushed him back off the bed. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry buddy.” She apologized. For the second time in as many days the dog had scared the life out of her. She pulled the sheet tight around her waist. “He’s big enough to get just about anywhere now.” She commented regretfully. 

Geralt climbed over her, stopping to kiss her soundly. He climbed off the bed, “We just need to come up with a system to Jaskier proof our sex life is all.” The dog yipped when he heard his name.

“Yes, _you_. Come on, outside.” The dog followed him past the door in the moonlight.

“…That’s _my_ time with Mama…*whine*…Prove it, I was here first…”

————————————-

-Yennefer-

Broad shoulders heaved and quaked. The muscles in his back strained and pulled, abdominals twisted. He heaved again, the contents of his breakfast reappearing at an alarming rate. When it seemed he was done, she handed him a towel and sat down on the cool tile floor with him. 

“You were right.” He croaked. “ _Death_. This is death.” 

“I’m - “

He lurched forward and retched again. Once the dry heaves subsided, he leaned back into her arms and she pressed a cool cloth to his forehead. 

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered against his shoulder, feather light kisses against his damp skin. 

He took in a ratty breath. “It’s not your fault princess, I would have gotten it anyway.” 

Jaskier whined and scratched at the bathroom door. 

She tucked a stray piece of his pale hair back from his forehead. “Now _I_ get to play doctor.” She wiggled her eyebrows enticingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That white house would be covered in dog fur. Best Ruumba is a fictional one :D


	4. Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overseas business trip turns into something life changing for Geralt and Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be a thousand percent clear, all consensual. :D Also, I’m flexing the PWP tag, plot happened. Sorry *shrug*, I honestly have no control over these things.

-Yennefer-

He was cool, calm, and stone faced. On the outside. She knew he detested planes, even the fancy private jet they were in. The main cabin only housed eight passengers, and that day only four. They sat in the last pair of seats, he felt slightly better if he could see what was happening around him, the wall to his back. 

Geralt’s business partner Vesemir and his wife Tissaia sat towards the front, chatting amicably about their trip. She held a champagne flute and he a beer. Vesemir cut an impressive figure, his distinguished grey hair and sharp business suit projected power and money. Tissaia wore a sleek black knee length dress, her dark hair pinned in an intricate updo. 

Things in the back were slightly less put together, as his hands gripped the armrests on his seat when they hit a patch of turbulence. For a man so physically imposing, and a wildly successful businessman, his aversion to flight was highly inconvenient. This particular trip was agonizingly long however, seventeen hours and multiple refuel landings had him at the end of his rope. 

They were traveling on business to Cyprus, Greece, but the women joined them as they planned to extend the trip into a holiday. The seats were large and comfortable, his long legs free unlike on a large commercial jet. 

She had chosen to dress comfortably for travel, but was still fashionable as always. Her lilac ruffled V-neck top left her arms bare, their destination warm. Grey Valentino heels offset a light grey a-line lace skirt that just kissed her knees. His grey suit complimented her unintentionally, the white button down open down the first few buttons and the jacket tossed in the empty seat in front of them.

She crossed her shapely legs and pressed her thigh against his. She peeled his hand from the armrest and held it in her lap, thumbs running distracting patterns and circles. The plane jolted again and the muscle in his jaw danced, his eyes closed. He had made a comment once about having Jaskier certified to fly with him, but it defeated the purpose of wanting him home with her when he was away. 

She tried to get his mind off the flight. “I wonder if our little boy is giving his auntie grief. She won’t be so eager to volunteer to sit for us next time.”

He answered without opening his eyes, “Eskel is with her, the dog minds him better than either of us.”

She nodded against his shoulder, he wasn’t wrong. Another bump and vibration from the plane. “Want me to get you something? Whiskey?” 

“Don’t go.” He squeezed her hand. The man was afraid of nothing; he’d gone rock climbing, driven a formula one car, hell, he’d wrestled a gun from a mugger once, but the man of steel in the air he was not.

She unbuckled her seatbelt, the sign wasn’t on anyway, and Vesemir owned the plane so she wouldn’t have to sass anyone over her unorthodox seat choice, his lap. She slipped her shoes off and grabbed a blanket peaking from the cupboard that also served as a small table. He reclined the seat as she nestled in his arms, feet tucked inside the blanket.

Tissaia found them curled together, they slept through the remainder of the flight and the landing. She bent to pat Yennefer’s bare shoulder, “Wake up kids, Greece is waiting for us.”

———

-Geralt-

Three black sedans met them at the airport, one for each couple and another for their security detail. They drove an hour through the Greek countryside to Cape Greco, a beautiful peninsula extending from the island of Cyprus. Pristine golden sand beaches, rocky bays and coves, and an impressive national forest park made the island an ideal getaway for both busy couples. 

Their hotel was highly exclusive, and catered primarily to wealthier clientele. Their room was next door to Vesemir and Tissaia’s. Over the years he learned not to unpack his bag until she approved of their room, so he rolled their bags into the sitting area while she explored. She was fussy, and he didn’t give a shit. If she wanted things a certain way, extra clean, whatever it was, she would have it. 

He found her leaning against the railing on their balcony, taking in the ocean air. The breeze stirred the edge of her skirt and a few lustrous dark curls. God, she was a beautiful woman, he thought. He joined her, his heavy arm wrapped around her trim waist. 

“It’s so beautiful.” She sighed. 

“Hmmmmmm.” The scenery was not the only beauty he appreciated. 

“I do miss Jaskier, he would love to run down that beach.”

“Your sister is probably chasing him down _our_ beach at this very moment. Sand flying to the sound of her curses and threats. Eskel dragging them both back to the house.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled with amusement.

“You’ll need to give him a raise to keep him on.” She grinned. 

“Whatever it takes.”

They walked back into the suite, leaving the doors and windows wide. A pair of oversized club chairs sat against one wall, a huge mirror mounted behind them, making the room feel even larger. The bed was constructed of a light stained wood, the large open canopy frame inviting. 

She stopped behind one of the chairs, noticing something askew with her heels in the floor to ceiling mirror. She bent low, and blood rushed to his cock at the sight of her lush derrière presented so nicely. He approached without a sound before running his open palms up the back of her bare thighs under the skirt to give her a measured squeeze. 

She straightened agonizingly slow, her fingertips light against her legs and her hair freshly flipped when she met his hungry gaze in the mirror. He slid his hands to the front of her thighs and leaned into her. 

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, feeling the bulge he already sported. He bent into her neck and treated himself to a long inhale of her lilac perfume. Her skin smelled of the delicate flowers and her hair of berries, but the way she _tasted_ was all her. His tongue darted to lick a swath of her flawless skin, his hips ever so slightly rolling against her rear.

She watched him in the mirror, tilting her head and even sweeping her hair to her opposite shoulder to give him more room to bathe her neck affectionately. One of his hands dipped over her lacy panties in between her thighs, and the other looped two fingers around their thin band, poised to rip them off of her. 

“Geralt, not here, not now.” 

One finger slipped under her panties and traced her slit. His lips left her neck with a wet noise, and he met her gaze in the mirror, white teeth gleaming underneath his smirk.

“Why not kitten?” His gruff voice impossibly low. She gasped as his fingers delved deeper, finding the slick he was so confident would be waiting for him. His eyes never left hers as he coaxed her clit out from hiding. 

Her jaw dropped and a soft moan escaped. “Dinner.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “We have to go to dinner soon… _oh_.” Her hips answered his, her calf and thigh muscles flexing to accommodate the movement in the heels. 

“They’ll wait.” He ripped the panties clean off with a swift jerk of his wrist. 

She tugged on his hand and spun to fumble with his belt. He leisurely cleaned her from his fingers, watching her unzip his fly in the mirror. She knelt, her soft hands tracing him up and down as her tongue left a wet trail of licks and kisses. She wet her lips and took him in her mouth, her tongue flicked the sensitive spot on his underside and his arm shot out to grip the back of the chair. That little _minx_.

“Ah, ah, this isn’t your show love.” He nudged her cheek with his thumb. As much as it pained him to do so, it wasn’t what he had in mind for that mirror. She released him regretfully and climbed back up his chest, undoing buttons as she went. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms, their lips meeting for the first time since they’d touched down on Greek soil. 

He broke away, nudging her nose with his, before spinning her around to face the mirror with him. He tugged her shirt up and she helped him slide it off, her bra joining it on the floor. He bunched up her skirt and leaned his hips into hers, coating himself in her slick. Her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Open.” He graveled against her ear. Her dark lashes fluttered back open in time to see his tanned arms slide across her skin, each of his hands claiming one of her breasts. She let out a shaky breath. 

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” His thumbs swiped over her nipples, hard from the ocean breeze that still flowed into the room. She bit her lip. “And that hungry look on your face. Knowing what you need, what you deserve, but trying to let me do it my way.” Pure sin dripped from his lips into the shell of her ear. 

He leaned her against the back of the heavy chair. “I’ve got something for that hungry look right here.” He thrust home with a solid grunt. She gripped the upholstery of the chair with both hands and it took her a moment to recognize the load moan she heard as her own. 

“Keep watching gorgeous.” He brought one of her hands to her breast, the other braced against the chair as he thrust at a slow pace. He braced his opposite hand, but froze when he heard voices coming from the balcony. 

_Shit_. Vesemir and his wife were out on their balcony, only a mere distance separating the sound of their voices through the open door and windows. He looked back at the woman in his arms. She nodded, he didn’t even have to voice the question, whether she was comfortable keeping quiet with them so close.

He resumed his deep, purposeful thrusts and slid his hand over her shoulder and up her neck. Her eyes were wild, and they darkened even more when she watched her lips disappear under his brawny hand.

They were both entranced by the image in the mirror. Her soft curves against the harsh lines of his muscle tone. Her hips rolled in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. She was flushed from her checks to her belly, her plump breasts swaying with his motion. Under his breath he whispered, “Look at that divine creature, she’s finally getting what she deserves. A nice, thorough, fucking.” He punctuated the last sentence with sharp thrusts, her moans muffled on his skin.

“Touch yourself for me sweetheart.” He whispered. She was getting close, her breath huffed from her nose on his hand, her hand uncoordinated between her legs. She groaned when her fingers brushed his cock as he picked up his pace, close himself. 

His eyes were blown dark to match hers as he watched her body start to tremble. He mouthed _I love you_ and she bit down on his finger, her back bowing and her hips grinding back against his. She forced her lashes to stay open, watching helplessly as her body sought pleasure from his. 

She did her best to hold back her whimpers as he followed her over the edge. The unexpected pain from her bite was a catalyst for the forceful snaps of his hips and his own growl he muffled against her back as he came long and hard.

They remained silent for a moment, listening for any disruption in the conversation on the adjacent balcony. It sounded like they had gotten away with it, the older couple chatted about the national forest nearby. 

She didn’t have her legs under her, she clung to his arm and the chair back, catching her breath. He pulled his hand from her mouth, she’d broken the skin, a few drips of blood ran between his fingers. 

She looked back at him, horrified. He grabbed his shirt from the floor, wrapped it around his hand and scooped her up. He carried her to the bathroom, set her down on the edge of the jacuzzi tub, and turned back to kiss her soundly. 

She pulled away, “I’m so fucking sorry, let me see it.”

He took her chin in his other hand. “Stop that right now. I’m the one who shoved his hand in your mouth and then teased you. I know my woman has fangs.” He kissed her again, running his tongue along the edge of her upper teeth. 

He rested his forehead against hers, “Did you feel how hard I _came_? To apologize for that is sacrilege.” He grinned.

“Alright, but let me put a bandaid on it and kiss it better.” She relented. 

“I’ll allow it. Then a shower and a big cut of red meat for dinner. For some odd reason, I find myself famished.” 

———  
The Next Day  
-Yennefer-

Yennefer wove her way through a linen vendor’s stall, her fingers running over the fine cottons and silks. She wore a navy blue sundress, a small white belt and matching flats. It was early in the afternoon, the sun high in the sky and the temperature terribly hot. Her obsidian curls were piled high on her head in an attempt to keep her neck cool. Geralt’s metallic aviators kept the sun from her eyes, she’d forgotten to pack her own. 

Tissaia was in the next shop, their tall, dark and handsome Greek security guard keeping an eye on both of them. His counterpart was inland with the men, they were meeting with the pharmaceutical reps about a potential investment. She focused in on a pale grey silk, picturing it draped over the canopy of their bed. 

“I can see you have very fine taste my dear.” The old woman running the stall approached her. Yennefer pushed the glasses up on her head. 

“Oh! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen eyes as lovely!” She exclaimed, her hands clasped in excitement.

She nodded shyly, “Thank you.” 

“Listen to me, I sound like the witch tempting you with an evil apple. It’s not often my humble shop is graced by such beauty.” The woman smiled kindly. 

“You’re too kind. I’m a sweaty mess here today.” Small beads of moisture fell down the small of her back, even in the short, light dress she wore. This woman was really laying it on thick for that sale.

“You glow.” The woman smiled wisely.

What the hell did that mean? The look on her face came off as she was insinuating something more. Yennefer convinced herself the woman was just being kind, and likely for a larger stake in the Euros tucked in her little white purse. She smiled her thanks, and purchased a large amount of the grey silk. 

“Anything else dear? A lovely pale yellow, or this pastel aqua, for any _smaller_ rooms in your home?”

There she went again! She must be just paranoid. There was no way on earth the woman could know anything. Although, she bought them both. She thanked the woman and took her leave, the hot sun beating down on the crowded marketplace. Tissaia was making a purchase, jewelry it appeared. 

Yennefer fanned her face with her hand in a futile attempt to keep the heat from rolling up off the brick walkway as she waited. 

“Would you like me to carry that for you ma’am?” The poor man was in a full suit, he must be simply dying, she thought. 

“It’s not that heavy, but thank you.” He accepted with a nod, watching Tissaia carefully as she opened her purse. 

Damn, she should have eaten something that morning. Vesemir and Geralt had left the hotel early and she and Tissaia had gone for breakfast, but all she managed was some sips of tea and half an orange. 

She leaned a bit against one of the awning supports, her legs and arms feeling heavy in the heat. The dull noises of the crowd around her began to fade. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll take you up on that.” 

She took a step forward to hand him her bag, and promptly crumpled to the ground.

———

Yennefer woke up just a minute or two later, Tissaia was sprinkling drops of her water bottle against her face. Strong arms held her upright, but they were decidedly not Geralt’s. 

“Thank you, sorry about that.” She offered the young man, pulling away and gathering herself to stand. 

“You went down hard, but Mykonos got you before you hit the stones. Are you ok honey?” Tissaia worried her lip. The two women had known each other for years, and her face was full of genuine concern. 

“Thank you again.” She stood with his help, and he nodded in acknowledgment. 

“Do you need the hospital ma’am? I can have the car around in no time.” 

“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you both. I would love a bite to eat though.” She took a deep breath and smiled, reassuring both that she would indeed, be fine.

Yennefer noticed the old woman from the linen stall as she watched the trio leave, a knowing smile on her wrinkled face.

———

The two women sat under an umbrella outside a small cafe, the pristine ocean waves crashing into the rock formation below. Yennefer took another bite of the sandwich they shared and chewed thoughtfully.

“When are you going to tell him?” Tissaia asked, sipping her Ouzo. 

Damn, how did these women _know_. She wasn’t showing much at all yet. Hell, Geralt hadn’t noticed the barely there swell of her belly, and the man spent more time looking at her naked than she did herself. There was no reason not to tell her, she was far enough along.

“Tonight. We just haven’t had a quiet moment to ourselves in the longest time, I haven’t had a good opportunity.”

Tissaia hummed in understanding. “He’ll be elated.” 

“Do you think so, truly?” 

Yennefer had confided in Tissaia as a pseudo mother figure for ages. When the press ripped Yennefer apart for appearing the gold digging whore years ago, she was incredibly helpful and reassuring. It was the sage advice given by she and her husband to both of them that had ended the jealous slander and created their personas as a mysterious power couple. They lived by “no comment” and that had worked for them ever since.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you how much that boy loves you. You already know, and frankly, I haven’t got that much time.” She smirked. “He will be beside himself with joy. You’ll both be wonderful parents.”

Tissaia leaned to give her a tight hug. “Thank you.” Yennefer whispered. 

“Grammy, grandma, gram, or nana. One whiff of ‘me-maw’ and I disappear into witness protection.” 

———

-Geralt-

The sun set over the waves outside their room. He and Vesemir had returned from their meeting two hours ago, and Yennefer had been napping since. She must have been tired, the only thing she’d taken off was a tiny pair of ballet flats that perched at the edge of the bed. Her skin was already a slightly darker hue, she tanned easily and beautifully.

He ran his thumb across her check and whispered, “Wake up my golden goddess.” 

Her bright violet eyes met his, brilliantly gold and lite with mischief. “I have a surprise for you.” 

“I hate surprises.” She sat up on bed slowly, leaned into his chest and yawned. 

“This I know, and yet I persist. Dress for comfort, and swimming.” He smirked as she squirmed. 

———

-Yennefer-

“This is the corniest, most romantic thing you’ve ever done.” He silenced her with a chocolate covered strawberry. 

“Do you hate it?” He was being a smart ass. Of course she didn’t hate it. A private beach at dusk, torches lit and a soft blanket spread on the sand. A basket of fruit, chocolate and cheese sat by a chilled bottle of champagne. He fiddled with his phone for just a moment, and she covertly poured her champagne into his glass and water into hers. 

She took a last bite of cheese, and thought about the women who would never experience a romantic gesture like she was accustomed to. He’d gone to all this trouble for no special reason. They were in Greece, but he was just as apt to pamper her as if it was any old Thursday. 

The money helped, she understood that, but they’d be in someone’s backyard with a basket full of fried chicken and a six pack just the same. It was the kind of man he was, and she was grateful every day.

The torches flickered in the warm breeze, and the sound of the waves calmed her mind from it’s nervous spinning. The harsh planes of his face were even sharper in the low light. His high cheekbones, strong jaw and straight patrician nose made her question the source of such perfection. They both spent time exercising, for heath as much as appearance, but not a moment of it was wasted on his impressive physique. 

She leaned across the blanket to run her finger across his cheekbone and then jaw. “I think they dropped you.” 

“Hmmmmm?” He tossed a strawberry stem back in the basket and and sank his teeth into the fruit. 

“The greek gods. I’m fairly certain you’ve accidentally fallen and lost your memory on how to get back up there.” 

His eyebrow jumped and he smirked. “Not quite, love. What am I the god of? Let it be something manly. Let someone else be the god of taking out the garbage and cleaning up after Jaskier.” 

She laughed and cuddled into his arms. It was warm, he in trunks and she in a two piece, but the darkness gave her a chill. 

“I will have to be Ares to your Aphrodite.” He reasoned.

“Hephaestus isn’t exactly a small guy,” she gave his biceps a squeeze, “but you can take him.”

“So quick to assume I’ll go straight to warring and home wrecking for you my love. You know me so well.” He gave her a warm kiss. “Let’s go see if I’ll have to fight Poseidon for you too.”

———

They swam, splashed and played in the warm water like teenagers. She disappeared under the surface, and he waited patiently until an unexpected yank on his foot pulled him under as well. She was laughing when he surfaced, and moments later he dove under again, only to swim up between her legs from behind and surge up from the sand below. She squealed and her hands grasped in his hair and under his chin to steady her teetering position on his shoulders. 

His hands kept her thighs tight to him, the back of her calves sliding against his chest. She shivered against the ocean breeze, but thought quickly of a way to get him to let her free of his trap. She untied the bow at the back of her neck and the one on her back, freeing the halter style bikini top and leaving her breasts bare.

She let the strappy garment slide down her leg next to his face, before letting it plop into the ocean in front of him. He fished it from the waves, realized what it was, and tossed it towards the shore. He looked up at her with hungry eyes, her full breasts glistened in the moonlight, framing her own hungry stare, her bottom lip trapped under her teeth.

He bent his knees so the water rose and she was able to shift around to to his front and slide her body down his. He trapped her upper lip between his, her face framed in his hands. The water giving her height, she wrapped her thighs around his waist and pulled him as close as she could. 

One hand played at the short hair on the back of his head, the longer alabaster locks above wet and curling. The other ran the length of his muscled arm, her nails tracing veins and sinew made prominent from their swim. 

Their tongues explored and teased until the need for more air changed their play to nips and nibbles. His hands moved to her ass and he pulled her close, her bikini bottoms and his trunks doing little to prevent the feel of his erection against her core. He broke from her lips and bent to suckle her breast, and she moaned at the sweet pull of his mouth on her sensitive skin.

He began walking them toward the shore, and were it not a private beach, an onlooker might mistake them for a pair of the gods they had just joked about. His large stature and strikingly handsome appearance was only made more ethereal by the reflection of the moon on their wet skin. She was a remarkable beauty in her own right, clinging to him like a foundling mermaid who wouldn’t survive the shore without him. 

She tugged at his hair sharply and he released her swollen nipple with a wet slurp. He gave her ass a slap in retaliation for her rough treatment and she answered in a broken moan, a wave of heat pulsing in her center at the sting. Thunder may as well have clapped in the distance. 

The water rose to his knees, then only above his ankles as he carried her back to their blanket. His hand brushed soothing circles on the light pink print he left on her cheek, and her fingertips made the same calming apology on his scalp.

He laid her down on the blanket, and she immediately rolled them over. Her soft lips brushed against his ear, “You had your way with that mirror, now it’s my turn.” She kissed him thoroughly, her wet curls draped over them like a curtain, her hips dragging against his in a slow rhythm. 

“Off.” She pulled away and tugged at the waistband of his trunks. He lifted his hips and shrugged them down his legs, kicking them from his feet. He helped himself to undoing the ties of her bikini bottoms on either of her hips while she feasted on his chest. She licked the seawater as it dripped down his pectorals and ran her teeth over his flat nipples. 

Her bathing suit fell away and she gasped at the feel of him hot against her slick folds. She slid her hips over him once, twice, until his cock was coated with her. He leaned up on his elbows, watching himself reappear wetter each time, hard almost to the point that it was uncomfortable. 

She took pity on them both and braced her arms on his chest, sinking down and taking him inch by glorious inch. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, so good around my cock.” He gripped her slender waist as he mumbled encouragement, and she impaled herself down hard, a ragged moan tearing itself from her throat. 

She rode him hard, focus and pleasure evident on her face. His hips shifted up to meet hers, but she controlled the depth and pace as she moved faster, unashamed as her little moans and pants increased in volume. He groaned when she leaned farther over him, the change in angle allowing her clit to bump the base of his cock. They kissed messily when they were close enough to do so. 

“Yen,” he growled in between kisses. “Marry me.” 

She didn’t miss a beat with her hips, her breasts brushing against his chest with each stroke. 

“Okay.” 

His hand ran from her waist, over her ribcage and dragged over her breast before he suddenly froze. His hand and his hips stilled, both of their chests expanding wildly to regain their breath. 

“Wait, what..was that?” His beautiful facial features scrunched up in disbelief. 

She licked her lips, dry from panting. “Yes, I would be honored to marry you Geralt.” She smiled softly as his mind raced to catch up.

He surged up on his elbow and kissed her fiercely. She moved her hips over his again, this time his thumb on her clit and his hips forceful against hers. It wasn’t long before her pants became vocal, and her thighs began to tremble around him. She tensed her inner muscles around him as he withdrew, and the curse he barked made her ears ring and her core flutter. 

She gave up on keeping up her rhythmic thrusts and let him do it, she was a mess on top of him, grinding her clit against his hand and panting his name. “Come with me,” she pleaded, her palms sliding against his sweat slicked chest. 

She cried out, her inner walls pulsing around his still thrusting cock. He groaned. “That’s it, _oh fuck_ , that’s it beautiful, _fuck_!” He joined her in white hot bliss, his hands grabbing her rear and pulling her tight against his hips as she shook atop him. He gave one last heaving thrust before spilling himself deep with a mighty grunt. She moaned low against his throat as she felt him warm inside her. 

She laid on his chest, her flushed cheek against his sternum as their racing heartbeats calmed. After a few minutes, she shifted to his side, hissing at the loss of him. He reached above them near the food and pulled a folded blanket, tucking it tight around her. She toyed her fingers in his chest hair, her leg still slanted over his. 

He propped his head up with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her. “Why now?" 

“Years ago, I was scared. I thought it would put pressure on us, force us to fight and grow apart. One day I realized that fear was gone, and I knew I wanted to be with you always. Then I just didn’t think we needed it. Why make it legal, so formal?” She paused. “And now something has changed.” 

____

His face grew serious as he hung on each of her words. 

____

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been taking _naps_ lately, which I don’t normally do.” 

____

“I’ve noticed.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. 

____

“And Jaskier has been trailing after me and overly protective, like when I was sick those months ago.” 

____

His dark lashes closed and he exhaled a deep, shaky sigh. “I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me?” He looked hurt. “We will get you to the best doctors, I don’t care what yours has already told you, we are going to get back on that plane tomorrow and get you to wherever they specialize in whatever it is.” 

____

He cleared his throat, “I’m not gonna lose you damnit.” 

____

It suddenly clicked. He thought she had cancer or some life threatening illness. 

____

“No! No, no Geralt. I’m an idiot, I should have just come out with it. I’m pregnant.” 

____

The panic on his face fell away, replaced by a stunned look she worried might be permanent. 

____

“Geralt?” She tried. “I just found out at the beginning of the week. Jaskier wouldn’t stop laying his head on my belly so I went to the doctor.” She waved her hand in front of his face. Nothing. 

____

“The doctor said something about pregnant women’s hormones smell different and dogs can sometimes tell. The only one who knows is Tissaia, she figured it out today in the marketplace when I sort of passed out a bit.” 

____

Oh God, he wasn’t happy about this. She never should have said she would marry him, now he probably felt trapped. Fuck. 

____

“I’m sorry about this, it wasn’t planned, obviously. The doctor said the flu probably messed up my pill, and -“ 

____

“You smell?” Ah, so he wasn’t stuck that way forever. 

____

“Right, the hormones -“ 

____

“You passed out? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

____

“Because I knew why and -“ 

____

“We’re having a baby?” He whispered so low that she almost didn’t hear the words. He sat up, taking her with him. She nodded. “In the spring, I’ll be twelve weeks this weekend.” 

____

He kissed her, again and again until she laughed and nudged him away for air. He noticed the champagne bottle and flutes set off to the side of the big blanket. He made a pained noise in his throat before jumping up to dump the contents of the glasses in the sand. He stood pouring out the entire bottle before she realized why he was freaking out. 

____

“I didn’t have any, I poured it in your glass!” She laughed at the traumatized expression he wore. 

____

“Thank fucking God, I’m already the worst dad ever…” He mumbled to himself. 

____

“Come back here, I’m cold without you.” 

____

“Oh my god, you’re wet, you’ll have pneumonia.” 

____

She had never seen him so undone. She reminded herself that she’d had a few days to freak out and dance around like the crazy person he was at that moment. 

____

He dropped down next to her again, and pulled the big blanket they were laying on around her too. That was a bit much, but she didn’t dare say anything. 

____

Back snuggled against his chest, she asked, “You are happy then?” 

____

“Just a bit.” He snarked, bringing the dainty hand on his chest to his lips. “You _are_ my Aphrodite. Goddess of beauty, pleasure, and procreation.” 

____

“You won’t be saying I’m any goddess when I’m as fat as a cow, crabby, and you all of a sudden own Claussen pickles.” 

____

He was unfazed by the grim picture she painted. “Guess what, once we’re married, you’ll already be part owner of Ben and Jerry’s.” 

____

“I _knew_ gold digging would pay off in the end. Say goodbye _eggnog_.” She murmured in a menacing tone. 

____

He laughed. “We do have one thing to work on. We need to get serious about training our big ass dog.” 

____

“Or we just outfit him with a baby sized saddle. It’ll be _our_ child Geralt, he or she isn’t going to take any shit from anyone, furry or not.” She reasoned. 

____

"You’re trying to tell me you’re not going to be overprotective?” He wasn’t buying it. 

____

“I won’t need to be. I know you Geralt, well. By tomorrow morning I’ll be able to find ‘safety bubbles for babies’ in your Amazon search history.” 

____

He smirked, but didn’t deny it. She cuddled closer and murmured, “I love you” into his chest. He whispered the same, and kissed the top of her head. 

____

“We’ll need a couple…of the bubbles. In case one breaks.” 

____

She groaned. 

____

———  
-Two Days Later- 

____

-Geralt- 

____

The sun was setting on his last night as a single man. He closed the screen on his laptop and walked towards their balcony to join her. Vesemir and his wife had turned in early, claiming to be old and needing their rest for the big day in the morning. 

____

Yennefer didn’t want a _big_ day, just the four of them on a beautiful rocky bluff would suffice. Geralt didn’t really want to host a function in LA either, the paparazzi would make them miserable, not to mention having to invite people they really didn’t care for. 

____

He whistled long and low, shutting the glass door behind him. She looked up from her book and smirked as he moved another lounge chair astride hers and laid back, his hands stacked under his head. 

____

“I’d watch it. My fiancé is a big guy, I wouldn’t fuck with his turf.” She flipped the page nonchalantly. 

____

He grunted. “Is that so? Where is this dude anyway? Seems like I’ve got the bride all to myself the night before the wedding.” 

____

She tsked, still pretending to ignore him. He ran two fingers over the top of her thigh not covered by a pair of lacy, stonewashed jean shorts. A tight white spaghetti strap tank top tucked into the shorts, dipping low and presenting him with a delicious view of her cleavage. 

____

“You must not like your face the way it is, he’s been known to rearrange them for people who can’t keep their eyes and their hands to themselves.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling, and flipped another page. He would bet anything she hadn’t read a word since he sat down next to her. 

____

“ _Bound to a Highland Scoundrel_?” He’d leaned to read the cover of her book. 

____

“Mmmmmhmmm,” she acknowledged without looking away from the page. He climbed off of his chair and knelt in front of hers. 

____

“Not quite as intellectual as your usual fare. Doing a bit of research for your next script? Reading that smut for the sake of science?” He teased. He massaged her bare feet for a few moments before pressing a kiss to the inside of her delicate ankle. 

____

“I don’t need _pornography_ thank you very much.” He kissed a trail up her calf, and behind her knee. “I have a very healthy sex life with my fiancé.” Up her thigh and over her shorts he went, until he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the hem of her thin tank free. He nuzzled his nose against her belly, planting a chaste kiss there before working down to her zipper. 

____

“Oh, I see, so this big old brute is a freak in the sheets. Keeps you busy.” He pulled the zipper down and she lifted her hips to help him slide them down her legs. 

____

“Not exactly, we make love in the missionary position, once every other month.” He nipped at her inner thigh and growled softly at such slander. She held the book over her mouth to hide her beaming smile. 

____

“In fact,” she goaded him even further, “I have it on good authority that female orgasms are a myth. Faking it makes the man feel -“ She squealed his name as he ripped her panties clean off and buried his face between her legs. The book toppled to the marble floor, whatever page she had left off on was lost. 

____

She was already wet from his teasing kisses, and his practiced tongue elicited breathy sighs from her parted lips. He circled her clit with his tongue and she arched her back, trying to force as much of her flesh against his mouth as she could. He eased back and she let out a frustrated mewl. 

____

“Easy sweetheart, we’ll get you there, don’t worry.” He kissed back up her abdomen, his chin leaving a trail of her slick as he went. He peeled her tank top up and she tossed it off while he unhooked her bra and sent it sailing over his shoulder and over the railing. 

____

“Geralt!” She hissed. He covered her mouth with his own, the taste of her rich on his tongue. He licked along her plump bottom lip before trailing his mouth back down to her pert breasts. 

____

“Gotta spend some quality time here while I still have them all to myself.” He murmured against her soft skin. He cupped both in his big hands, this thumb circling one nipple, his tongue doing the same on it’s twin. 

____

She exhaled deeply, a shiver running down her back at his diligent touch. He switched sides, this time licking broad stripes before latching his lips around her sensitized nipple and suckling. 

____

She moaned low in her throat, one hand resting on the back of his head, the combination of pain and pleasure creating pangs of need in her core. He reached his hand down against her folds, she was wet again, as if he hasn’t just licked her clean minutes ago. He groaned. 

____

She let her thigh fall farther open for him, and he edged a finger deep in her tight heat. “Ugh!” She cried out, her eyes slamming shut, focused on his hand. 

____

He released her nipple. “Shhhh princess.” He eased his finger in and out of her slowly. “We don’t want to be giving anyone any ideas.” He added a second finger. “Don’t want anyone thinking they can have what’s _mine_.” 

____

He worked both fingers inside her, his thumb bumping her clit. The hand in his hair tightened and her other flew down to grip the edge of the chair, her breaths coming in shorter pants. “Another, anoth- ...p-please.” 

____

Shit, she never said please unless he teased it out of her. He added a third finger, fuck, it was a tight fit. “Are you sure that’s not too -“ 

____

“Perfect, ugh, it’s perfect!” The pitch of her voice rose as he moved his hand faster, matching the jerky motion of her hips. He returned to sucking on the nearest nipple and it wasn’t long before her back arched and he suddenly had a mouthful of her heated flesh. 

____

To her credit, she kept it to only one long, rapturous moan, her hand clenching on the chair frame until her knuckles went white. He pushed his fingers deep inside her and rocked them gently, letting her body take what she needed from him. 

____

She laid back on the chair, chest heaving for air, her legs still trembling. He slipped his hand from her and picked her up. She clutched her hands around his neck, tired. “Let’s have a shower princess.” She nodded against his shoulder as he slid the door closed with his foot. 

____

“So, like I was saying, the female orgasm is a myth.” 

____

“That’s only gonna work on me once love.” He chuckled. 

____

“Damn!” 

____

———  
-The Next Morning- 

____

-Yennefer- 

____

She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her white lacy sundress. It was no ballgown, no haute couture piece, but charming and simple. There was a knock on the door. She went to open it but thought better. 

____

“Who is it?” 

____

“It’s me sweetheart.” _Geralt._

____

She opened the door to a small blonde woman. “Brina!” She squealed, rushing forward to hug her sister tightly. 

____

“What are you doing here?” 

____

“The big guy flew me out, apparently it isn’t every day your sister signs up to become a ball and chain.” She smirked. 

____

Yennefer hugged her again, and thanked Geralt over her shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and pulled a garment bag from behind his back, holding it out to her. 

____

Sabrina unzipped it and showed her the stunning champagne white dress inside. Floral lace appliqués dipped from the shoulders down a gentle v neck, covered the bodice and dotted down the tulle on the A-line skirt. A narrow rhinestone studded belt graced the narrow waist. 

____

“This is the one isn’t it? You pinned it _four_ times.” 

____

“How?” Yennefer breathed, her fingertips tracing the smooth fabric. 

____

“How do you think? He paid six seamstresses to work around the clock off of a photo from Pinterest. I’ve taken the liberty of sending my Christmas wishlist right to his secretary.” Sabrina beamed. 

____

“Let me see the view from your room!” She wove around Yennefer to run out onto their balcony. 

____

They walked into the room after her, the door closing with a soft click. She looked up at him, her face still awash with surprise and awe. “Geralt, _thank_ you.” 

____

She wrapped her arms around his thick chest and hugged him tightly. He kissed the crown of her hair and squeezed her back. She pulled back from his shirt to give him a harsh glare, “I hate surprises. You’re in big trouble.” Her sassy tone was offset by the way her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. 

____

Before he could come to his own defense, a familiar bark echoed down the hallway. A knock followed on their door. Geralt turned and pushed the door handle and a voice they both knew well broke through. 

____

“Selina! You better check that peephole before opening this door to any old stranger!” 

____

Geralt grinned and pulled the door open. Eskel held the leash tightly as Jaskier recognized his mama and began whining and pulling toward her. 

____

She tilted her head and lost the battle, a few tears escaped the corners of her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. 

____

“Bruce man, what kind of show are you running here. _Tears_?” He tsked. 

____

Yennefer bent and embraced the dog. He jumped and pawed, and licked every inch of her skin he could find while she sniffled and laughed. Geralt would get the same greeting when he realized he was standing behind the door. 

____

Eskel banded an arm around Geralt and they thumped each other on the back. “It’s about time brother.” Eskel mumbled. He straightened and pulled a small suede box from his jacket pocket and handed it to Geralt. “I’ll take a bullet for you, but don’t ask me to go through your underwear drawer again.” 

____

Geralt’s deep laugher echoed through the room before he was tackled by sixty five pounds of fur and slobbery tongue. 

____

_———_

____

The sun was low over the horizon, the water crystal clear as it surged up against the rocky bluffs below. A man stood in a white robe with his back to the ocean, tassels glimmering gold, a thick bible folded in his hands. Two men stood to his left, both in sharply tailored suits. One held the leash of a strikingly handsome black German Shepard, and the taller man wore a dazzling smile, his platinum locks stirring in the ocean breeze. 

____

An attractive blonde stood to the man’s right, a bouquet of lilacs and white hydrangeas in her hands. A second woman stood just beyond the blonde, and she tried to hide the motion as she dashed a tear from her cheek. 

____

The teary eyed woman’s husband helped the bride from a sleek black limousine, unfolded the trialing lace veil behind her, and walked her toward the group at the edge of the vast rock formation. 

____

Yennefer took Vesemir’s arm and they slowly walked toward Geralt and the priest. She spun the ring on her finger nervously, it’s weight on her hand a new sensation. He had apologized that it was _only_ five carats, a stunning asscher cut stone on a dainty band of tiny pavé diamonds. She’d called him insane to spend that on her and he’d countered, insisting she was worth it. 

____

She shook her head slightly at the thought, the crown of bronze leaves Tissaia had woven into her hair glinting in the fading sun. She was captivatingly beautiful, her creamy golden skin offset by miles of white lace and her ebony curls twisted down her back intricately, courtesy of her sister. Her makeup was soft, letting her dazzling eyes and rosy cheeks and lips speak for themselves. 

____

When they got close, Vesemir slowed and leaned down to ask, “You can still turn around darling. He would forgive you.” She smiled up at him, “Tissaia made you ask didn’t she?” He looked sheepish. “I would never forgive myself Vesemir. This is what I want, I have for a long time, truly.” 

____

“I’m glad, sweetie.” They closed the distance to the priest and she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before he placed her hand in Geralt’s larger one. 

____

“Everything alright?” He whispered. 

____

“More than alright.” She said confidently, giving his hand a squeeze. 

____

He squeezed hers back even tighter and they turned to the smiling priest. 

____

———  
Epilogue 

____

-Yennefer- 

____

Peals of youthful laughter and short barks filled the courtyard between their kitchen and the pool area. Yennefer stood at the sink rinsing off an apple, watching the dark haired boy and the dog racing from toy to toy. 

____

“Henry, slow down please, Jaskier is faster than you are honey.” She called through the window. She leaned to turn the water off, the muscles in her back protesting. 

____

“Yes mama!” 

____

She looked again, if anything, he ran _faster_ after the dog. She no more than sunk her teeth into the apple and the laughter turned to wails. 

____

Their housekeeper turned and offered to help, but Yennefer assured her she was fine. She was due any day with their second boy, and at this rate they would have to hire a full time nurse for everyone’s bumps and bruises. 

____

Geralt refused to go into the office with her so close, and he would surely be coming from his study for the source of the pitiful cries. She got closer, he had tripped on the edge of the sandy colored pavers and scuffed his little knee. 

____

She hadn’t heard such dramatic howling and whimpering since Jaskier had gotten stuck between the fence rails last month after a squirrel. When the new baby was old enough to play it would be a right circus. 

____

“Mamaaaa” he lamented, “Mama it stings something fierce!” He sniffled and huffed, fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. 

____

“Here baby, let me see it.” She knelt on the grass next to him. She checked over his knee, and blew cool air on the scrape. “Uncle Eskel says if it hurts real real bad, it hurts something fierce. Isn’t that right Mama?” 

____

“That’s right baby, he’s a very smart uncle. Let’s go get you a big boy bandaid.” 

____

“And you’ll kiss it better Mama?” He wiped his nose. 

____

“I surely will.” She went to push off the grass and stand, when the muscles in her lower back contracted and she rested back down on her hands with a groan. 

____

Geralt had been leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed, taking in the sweet moment in front of him when he saw her stumble. 

____

“Mama? You have a boo-boo too?” 

____

She gritted her teeth and pressed her fingers into her back. Warm hands grasped her shoulders, “What is it Yen, are you alright?” 

____

“I’m fine, I’m just not sure - _Oh_ ” she groaned in pain and gripped his hands on her shoulders. Before the contraction let up, her water broke, soaking the light sundress she wore. 

____

Henry looked up in horror, “Mama! You peed your pants! Even I don’t pee my pants anymore. I won’t tell auntie Brina, she will laugh, I know it.” 

____

She exhaled deeply through her teeth. Their little boy stepped closer and hugged her around the neck, “I love you mama, I won’t tell. Only I’ll laugh at you okay?” 

She could feel her husband’s silent laughter against her back. “Sounds good baby, I love you.” She kissed his cheek and Geralt picked her up. 

“I can walk.” She protested. 

“These are coming fast, you best save your strength sweetheart.” 

He took a moment to kiss her, before bellowing across the yard, “Eskel, we are go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never been to Greece, I’m guessing with all of this. Mykonos is Michael Scott’s fictional greek character name - if you haven’t seen the Office, now’s the time to leave the cave and find your new favorite show. White hydrangeas might not be a thing - they should be. Again don’t know anything about pregnant people so please no hating for technical stuff :D
> 
> I am sad to wrap things on this reincarnation of our lovelies, but they lived three chapters longer than originally intended. They’ll be back <3
> 
> DarkGlowingLight - Here lies the conclusion to your gifty-gift, which should be renamed the “dirty dozen”, since I have graced our girl with TWELVE, all for you doll. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who read. Double thank you to those who have left kudos on (any of) my work. And to the stone cold pack of heroes that have left me the most wonderful comments, my never ending gratitude! You guys friggin rule <3


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